


Children of Nyx

by orphan_account



Series: Weapons of Edom [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types
Genre: (kinda), Angst, Case Fic, Dubious Consent, Eventual Happy Ending, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Needs A Hug, Fuck Or Die, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magnus has no powers, Parabatai Bond, Partner Betrayal, Post 3.10, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Alec Lightwood, Protective Isabelle Lightwood, Protective Jace Wayland, Protective Magnus Bane, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-02 00:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17877674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: There's a reason parabatai are forbidden from sharing physical intimacy. It's the reason Alec convinced himself he loved Jace for so many years. The consequences are said to be catastrophic.In the fallout from Lilith's rampage, Jace accidentally triggers an ancient weapon and sets off a chain of events that threatens to destroy everything: his bond with Alec, Alec's relationship with Magnus, and the very foundations of the Clave itself.aka the fuck-or-die fic in which the fucking is somehow the least of everyone's problems.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is possibly the most emotionally complex thing I have ever attempted to write. The fuck or die trope has always fascinated me, and I've wanted a fic that delved deep into the consequences for everyone involved for so long I figured I might as well try writing it myself. Please, I really would appreciate any feedback as this is a whole new avenue for me, and I am completely out of my comfort zone!
> 
> The dubious consent is EXTREMELY dubious for both parties involved. It will be contained in one chapter, and I will make it accordingly if you'd like to skip it. 
> 
> Since this is post 3.10, another title for this fic could be: Poor Magnus, Poor Jace & Poor Alec. They've all got a ton of issues to work through, and I'm going to make things 100 x worse for them before the end.

Consciousness comes with a splitting headache and the disgusting sensation of something small and furry having died in his throat. Biting back a whimper, his eyes screwed tightly closed against the pale morning sunlight, Magnus raises a hand to dispel the unwanted pain. It takes him longer than he's willing to admit before his brain switches on, life comes flooding back, and he remembers that there's never going to be a magical cure for ill-advised drinking sessions ever again. Not from his hand at least.

Forcing down nausea that's only partially to blame on his drinking, Magnus opens his eyes with a grimace.

The shadowhunter sprawled over his chest is not the one he's expecting to find there.

“Jace?”

He's not entirely ashamed of the vindication he feels when looking at the pale, exhaustion lined face that's using him for a pillow. Magnus’s pounding head is entirely Jace’s fault.

He's been drinking no more than normal, but without magic, he no longer has the tolerance for ten dirty martinis in a night. He's been doing a good job of cutting back, disliking the maudlin paths his mind follows when mundanely drunk. Last night would've happily been a one martini night if not for Jace.

With a scowl, he pokes the shadowhunter firmly in the shoulder. He’s furious with Jace for derailing his plans for a quiet evening, and even more furious with himself for breaking his promise to Alec, but it still hurts his heart to see Jace wake with a groan, his eyes bloodshot and devastated, and with none of his usual obnoxious buoyancy.

“M-Magnus?” It takes Jace almost as long as it took Magnus to grab hold of coherency. “Why are we in bed together?” It says a lot about how very straight Jace is, but also how much he trusts Magnus, that there isn’t a hint of concern in his voice. No, Jace is bewildered, and so is Magnus.

“Because you’re both idiots.” Alec’s voice is a welcome sound to Magnus’s pounding head, but he has the suspicion that’s not going to be lasting for long. Alec’s perched on a chair at the foot of the bed, a tablet resting on his knee. The glow from the screen reflects the dark circles hanging under his eyes and makes it impossible to pretend his expression is anything other than one hundred percent grumpy.

“Alexander-“

“Alec?”

“Shut up, both of you,” Alec’s glare has been known to make grown men cower and Magnus is tempted to give in to the urge himself. There’s no world in which he doesn’t find Alec beautiful at all times, but while he can appreciate Mr _Institute Head Alexander Lightwood_ and find him in full on command mode terribly enticing, he also knows he’s several chapters deep into his boyfriend’s bad books. “I love you both,” and oh does he sound mad about it, “but if I ever come home to find you both passed out in pools of your own vomit again I will drop kick you into another dimension.”

Jace and Magnus cringe in sync. Oh, the indignity… Magnus draws a shaking hand over his face, trying to scrub away the rapidly returning memories of the night before.

Jace, arriving for his daily dose of masochism, shoulders tense and eyes haunted as he makes it his business to check Magnus’s apartment, to check Magnus, and apologize once again for all saving him has cost. His grief, Magnus can handle, even help with, but his guilt is exhausting. Magnus barely has the energy to get himself through the day, let alone someone else. He has a fuzzy memory of saying the exact thing to the fragile shadowhunter, then apologizing with alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol.

“I think that’s my fault,” Jace groans, finally untangling himself from Magnus. If he has any issue with spending the night clinging to his _parabatai’s_ boyfriend, he’s not yet awake enough to find it. And of course, he’s blaming himself. If you ask Jace, he’s responsible for everything from the Fall of Rome to Global Warming.   
  
Magnus is about to defend him when Alec beats him to it. “I doubt you held Magnus down and poured gin down his throat,” he snaps.

Oh, he really _is_ mad. Scared, most likely, and expressing himself in his default way. He’s been nothing but patient and kind over the past few months: a shoulder for Magnus to lean on as he finds new ways to navigate the world without his magic. Magnus shouldn't be surprised it's taken him this long to hold onto his temper, but he is.

“I am sorry, Alexander,” Magnus says. For so many things.

Alec huffs and drags a distressed hand through his wild hair. “Don’t be sorry. Don’t do it again!”

“No midnight drinking sessions with your brother,” Magnus promises. “You have my word.”

“One hundred percent,” Jace agrees, looking first at Magnus before turning that hurting expression on Alec. “I’m sorry, man.”

“Shower,” Alec says. “Guest room. You too,” he looks at Magnus and stabs a finger towards the bathroom. Jace obeys orders without further complaint, stumbling from the bedroom. Magnus is relieved to see he’s still wearing his boxers, if nothing else. “If you can manage that without falling over and breaking something, I’ll make you coffee,” Alec says.

Coffee sounds good. Coffee sounds great. And no one makes better coffee then Alec. He looks like he might need a cup or twelve himself. “You’re an angel,” Magnus says, untangling himself from the bedding and approaching Alec. “Did you sleep at all?” he asks, brushing a hand over his unruly hair.

“No. I had to make sure you didn’t die in your sleep.”

Alec leans into the touch, a forgiveness in his body if not his words. It strikes Magnus that they have shared little physical intimacy since he returned from Edom. The excuses have been easy to find: Alec’s brush with death, Magnus’s loss of equilibrium, exhaustion, work, Magnus’s general lack of sobriety on the rare nights they have together…

It’s less easy to call it for what it is: Magnus’s fear. Magic has always been the third party in their lovemaking. It’s the only experience Alec has ever known. Magnus can’t stomach the thought that without it, things might —

“I love you,” he says, drawing Alec close enough for him to lean against Magnus’s chest. “And I am sorry we worried you.”

Alec presses his forehead into Magnus’s stomach and wraps both arms around him. “I love you too,” he says, then, more hesitantly, “I’m sorry I got mad. It’s just… it really scared me. Finding you like that. I don’t know how to help either of you.”

“Darling,” Magnus holds him tighter. “You’re here. That’s all we need. Things will get better, I promise you.”

Alec nods against him, then pulls back. “Can I kiss you?” he asks. He’s not asked in months, but in that tentative request, Magnus sees nothing but the shy, insecure teenager he first started falling for.

“When I’ve brushed my teeth,” Magnus promises, kissing Alec’s forehead instead.

Alec pulls a face, no doubt remembering the state he found them in. “Yeah, good call.”

Magnus chuckles. Shower and teeth it is. He can do that much the mundane way, no problem. Maybe today is the day he hangs up his pride and asks Izzy to walk him through eyeliner techniques…

 

* * *

 

 

“You both look like shit,” Izzy says, apparently giving zero fucks about Jace’s hangover. She and Alec have that in common, which is why they’re here, balls deep in entrails, debris, and sulfur, instead of back at the Institute where Jace can ignore everyone in peace.

There aren’t even any demons here. Nothing to kill. Nothing to fight. Just a few traps they’ve spent hours disarming and the stink of hellfire that leaves Jace feeling cold and clammy.

“Thanks, Iz, you’re a doll.”

“I’m just saying, Magnus could’ve at least loaned you some concealer before you left.” She’s doing a far better job of picking her way through the disgusting, debris-strewn underground torture chamber in five-inch ankle boots than anyone has a right to. There are bodies everywhere, but they're all thankfully long dead. Not Jace's handiwork.

Alec, bringing up the rear, bow at the ready and arrow at the string, just in case, says, “That reminds me: he said to ask you something about eye pencils? Liner pens?”

“That’s specific,” Jace snorts.

Izzy, on the other hand, looks delighted, and she speaks fluent Alec. “Oh my god, I have the absolute _best_ Givenchy matt liner. It’s purple, and it would make his eyes _pop_!”

Few things can bring Jace joy right now, but seeing Alec’s bewildered expression is one of them. “I- can you just, like, tell him that? I have no idea what a Givenchy even is.”

“I got your back, big brother,” Izzy says, her eyes lighting up with inspiration. “Oh! Oh! We can go shopping! Jace! Jace, you wanna come shopping with us, right?”

Jace has spent many an entertaining afternoon shopping with Izzy. He loves his sister’s enthusiasm, and he loves her ability to find kick-ass leather no matter where they go. But the last time they went shopping, Clary was—

“Since I’m fairly sure it’ll just end up with Alec and Magnus making out in the changing rooms, I’ll pass.” It’s easy to plaster on a smile. Easier still to divert the conversation away from himself.

Izzy shrugs and turns her full attention on Alec, who eyes the bloody piles of bones with an expression that says he’s considering beating himself to death with a severed arm just to escape the conversation. “Alec….”

“I’d literally rather set myself on fire,” Alec says flatly.

Jace looks around. The wet gleam on the walls is mostly blood. Much longer, and he's going to be sick. “This place could use some fire.”

Izzy ignores him. She's lost interest in the mission. “I promise not to interrupt if you and Magnus do wanna make out in the changing rooms!”

Jace half expects Alec to go pink the way he always does when they tease him about sex. He doesn’t expect his brother’s already serious frown to droop even more at the edges.

“What was that?” He asks, missing the words Alec mutters under his breath.

Alec lowers his bow miserably. “I said ‘I’d take the public humiliation right about now if it meant we actually did anything.” He blinks then, as if he can’t quite believe he actually said the words aloud.

Jace is proud in a sad, pained way. As far as he knows, Alec’s never really felt comfortable enough in either himself or his relationship to discuss it with anyone. Izzy maybe, but certainly not Jace.

Which means Jace needs to not be a dick about his response. “Trouble in paradise?” Well fuck.

Izzy kicks him in the leg as he passes her and Jace tries to look apologetic. Christ, he can’t even give Alec this without fucking things up.

It’s a mark of how desperate Alec is feeling that he doesn’t shot Jace that familiar glower. “We’ve not… not since…”

“Lilith.” A heaviness settles in Jace’s chest. As if trying to murder Alec and stealing Magnus’s magic isn’t enough, he’s gone and fucked up their relationship as well.

Alec doesn’t answer. He raises his bow, and they continue onwards.

Jace, in an effort to stop his mind wandering down even darker paths than they have been, goes over the mission parameters in his head.

This - the underground system of rooms hidden below Manhattan - is one of many places poisoned by Lilith’s touch. Alec’s highlighted the locations of interest, and the shadowhunters are systematically clearing them out. Some have housed demon infestations, other have been entirely empty. This site might’ve seen horrors, but as far as Jace can tell, there’s nothing of note left to be found. Once they’ve done their sweep, they can close off the entrance and seal it up for good.

It’s all neat and easy, if really fucking gross. One day, Jace’ll find a way to close off parts of his mind just as cleanly. Just… shove everything into a room in his head, lock it up and throw away the key.

He’s never been good at compartmentalizing. Alec’s the fucking master, but Jace has always struggled.

Valentine can go in one room. Lilith in another. Clary… Clary is a door Jace can never lock, but if he can put her there, in a place where he can keep her safe without her bleeding into every moment of his waking life…

It’s a pretty fantasy, and not one Jace deserves. What right has he to want to box things away and forget about them when it’s his fault they all happened in the first place?

“I’m sorry,” he says to Alec, “about you and Magnus.”

“Not your fault,” Alec says so easily, “Not his either. I just wish I knew what I was doing wrong.”

“Not everything’s about you,” Izzy says, honest and gentle. “He’s going through something pretty huge. Don’t give up on him.”

“Never,” Alec promises, and when Alec promises something, he sees it through to the end.

“Last room,” Jace says, trying to distract them all from the pained determination in Alec’s voice.

“Looks like we’re clear,” Izzy says. “A waste of an evening, and my new boots.”

Jace lets his gaze catalog the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary. It’s more of the same. Bones and bloody water and stones from a crumbling ceiling. This looks like the hub of the site: the bodies here are clothed and some of the fabric remains, rich and well adorned with runes and sigils.

One of the bodies is apart from the others, propped up against what looks like an alter, and in his bony and decayed fingers, a black orb made of listening obsidian. They’ve all bought witchlights to illuminate the way, but this stone seems to be lit from within by a red light that flickers and dances on an unfelt wind.

It’s worth taking back for study. Not as good as a demon fight, but better than nothing.

He reaches for it even as Alec calls his name in panic.

“Jace, no!”

Jace feels Alec’s hand close around his arm even as his fingers touch the cool stone. There’s a second of shock when he meets Alec’s gaze and their parabatai bond throws itself wide open, and then nothing as the world turns black.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Magnus is contemplating frozen yogurt when the call comes. He’s discovered a new joy for grocery shopping in the months that have followed the loss of his magic, and delights in the variety of options now available to him. Alec’s been terribly patient, saying very little when opening the fridge to find twenty-six different types of cheese and eleven varieties of flavored milk, and shopping is now the most fun Magnus has on a day to day basis. It’s just absolutely exhausting and his respect for mundanes has skyrocketed.

Putting the phone between his shoulder and ear so he can compare brands of fro-yo, Magnus answers enthusiastically. “Alexander! I was just thinking about you. Tell me, what are your thoughts on us redecorating the kitchen? We need far more space for frozen yogurt and-“

“Magnus.” Isabelle Lightwood breaks his heart with one fractured, softly spoken word.

“No.” He’ll feel it. He’ll _feel it_ when Alec is taken from him. Even without magic, he’ll know. It’s not… _It can’t be_ …

“He’s alive,” Isabelle rushes to assure him.

Magnus falls to his knees in the middle of the frozen produce aisle, relief stealing all of his strength.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Isabelle sounds so young and afraid. She’s lost so much, and now Alec…

Magnus surges to his feet. “I’ll be there.”

* * *

 

Of course, it’s no longer a cause of opening a portal and popping over to the Institute. Catarina is on shift, and there’s no one else left alive Magnus trusts enough. No, interdimensional travel has been replaced by an Uber. It’s agonizingly slow.  

As he sits and vibrates with anguished energy in the back of a sleek black town car, he finds himself back in that dark alley, Alec’s blood on his hands and beloved features turning pale and slack in unconsciousness. He’s had many a nightmare since that day and almost all of them involve him helpless and impotent to stop Alec bleeding to death in his arms. He wakes each time feeling as though he’s trapped under ice, water filling his lungs and stealing his breath, panic flashing in muted colors before his eyes. More often than not, Alec is there, his arms strong and safe and his heartbeat steady when Magnus leans into his chest. He says nothing when Magnus traces fingers over the faint scar left behind, his cheek against Magnus’s hair and the warm puffs of his breath chasing the chill of frigid fear from the room.

Without his magic, Magnus feels like he’s drowning with only Alec to cling to for safety. If Alec dies… if Alec dies, Magnus has no desire to find the surface.

It takes nearly forty minutes to make it to the Institute and by the time he stumbles from the car, he’s run every wild scenario through his head. He spares a second to be grateful for Underhill, who has stationed on the door to wait for his arrival.

“They regained consciousness ten minutes ago,” Underhill says, double-timing to keep up with Magnus’s frantic pace. He’s cool and calm and stony-faced, and that distance of professionalism is somehow calming. Underhill likes Alec. Respects him. If it's truly bad—

“They?”

Magnus knows the way to the Infirmary by route. How many times has he been here over the years? How many times for Alec?

“Alec, Jace, and Isabelle were clearing one of Lilith’s old strongholds. They found an artifact we think is to blame for their loss of consciousness. Isabelle has it in the lab now.” Underhill explains the situation succinctly, but Magnus is only half listening. He picks up the important part of the words, which is that Isabelle is in the lab, not the Infirmary, which means she’s confident enough in the stability of Alec’s condition to leave his side.

Or, that he’s so near to death that she trusts no one else to find a solution.

Magnus is close to that trapped-under-ice terror as he rounds the corner and skids into the Infirmary.

The first thing he sees is Alec, shirtless and gloriously grumpy, arguing with one of the healers.

“I’m fine! See! All present and accounted for and I’m not staying in bed, I’ve got things to- umph!” He catches Magnus on instinct, stumbling sideways into the bed before finding his footing. “Hey! Hey, Magnus, I’m okay. I’m okay!”

Magnus has no words. He wraps his arms around Alec’s neck and holds him as tightly as he dares.

_He’s okay. He’s okay. It’s okay._

Alec makes no attempt to untangle them until Magnus leans back far enough to kiss him, hard and with more passion than they’ve shared in months. Alec welcomes him eagerly, his mouth soft and open, yielding to Magnus’s desperation. The kiss leaves them both breathless, but it’s a breathlessness that comes from love, not fear, and Magnus cherishes every second of it.

“You horrible, _horrible_ man,” Magnus gasps, unashamed of the tears in his eyes. “You’re going to turn me gray!”

Alec’s hand reaches up to brush the blue-tipped hair back from Magnus’s face. “You suit silver,” he says, a smile pulling the corners of that full, kiss-swollen mouth. “Sorry I scared you.”

“I suppose I deserve it,” Magnus scrambles for stability and plasters on a shaky smile. “For spending the night in bed with your _parabatai_.”

Underhill blinks comically and behind them, Jace lets out an indelicate snort of laughter. “I’m fine too, thanks for asking,” he says cheekily, pulling a sweater down over his chest.

“No one asked you because you’re the dumbass who touched the evil death orb,” Alec switches right back to annoyance, but not before kissing Magnus’s cheek and whispering, “You don’t deserve anything of the sort,” to Magnus.

“We don’t know it’s a death orb,” Jace protests. “It might just be a loss-of-consciousness orb!”

Alec doesn't look convinced. If anything, he's frowning so hard he's going to give himself a headache. “All the more reason to not just grab the mysterious item of unknown deadliness! Queens of Hell don’t hide ominously glowing objects in caverns full of mutilated corpses for shits and giggles!”

Jace has the decency to cringe and nod guiltily. “Fair point. Sorry about that.”

“What,” Magnus cuts in, holding up a hand, knowing that Jace and Alec can quite easily keep the bickering going for a few hours more at least, “is this about an orb? That’s what caused you to lose consciousness?”

“Jace grabbed the death orb-“

“Maybe-death orb,” Jace interrupts.

Alec glares at him. “The probably-death orb. I grabbed _him_ , and the next thing we know, we’re back here and Izzy’s threatening to cut our balls off.”

Poor Isabelle, Magnus thinks. How did she manage to get two fully grown shadowhunters out of a… 'cavern full of mutilated corpses', did Alec call it? Without help? Or a warlock to open a portal?

“Can we please stop talking about you dying?” Magnus is elated to see Alec and Jace alive, but he might just help Isabelle through with her threats.

Alec wilts like a scolded puppy and looks at him with sad, guilty eyes. “Sorry,” he whispers. Jace just shrugs.

“Back to the orb,” Magnus takes Alec’s hand in his own and squeezes it reassuringly. “Describe it to me.” He longs to let his magic flicker over Alec’s body, to find assurance for himself that he’s okay. Unable to do that, he can at least hope his years of experience can be of some help.

“I’ll take you to the lab,” Alec says, his hand slipping out of Magnus’s.

“Shirt, Alec,” Jace smirks, winking at Magnus.

Magnus gives him a pointed glare in return. “You’re already in my bad books, Jace Herondale.” Jace just snickers like a teenage boy who's just heard a dirty joke.

“If you’ve no objection, I’ll leave you to it,” Underhill says, waiting for Alec’s dismissal before leaving.

Alec nods. “Thank you. Take the rest of the night.”

“My boss just got brought home unconscious,” Underhill says dryly. “I’ll be going back to my duties and doubling down on security until we know the threat is isolated.”

“Knew I liked him,” Magnus says as Underhill leaves. “Good man.”

“If that _good man_ had his way I’d never go out in the field again,” Alec grumbles, zipping up his hoodie.

“Excellent fellow,” Magnus adds. Alec not going into the field sounds spectacular.

“Oh, he’d let you out,” Jace says, “just not without a full contingent of bodyguards.”

“Also an acceptable scenario,” Magnus agrees.

Alec’s scowl deepens to epic proportions. “I don’t need bodyguards,” he grumbles.

“You’re Head of the Institute,” Jace reminds him as they walk towards the labs. “You’re important.” He sounds both serious and delighted at the excuse to make fun of his brother.

“I don’t need bodyguards!” Alec says, louder this time, and drawing attention from other shadowhunters, all of who are smart enough to keep well out of the conversation. “I’ve got you and Izzy.”

Fortunately, Jace laughs before Magnus can put his foot in it. “Dude, we lead you _into_ trouble. We’re terrible bodyguards.” Magnus agrees entirely. Almost all of Alec’s injuries are inflicted in moments he’s been protecting others, often Jace. That, or they are injuries given to him _by_ Jace. Magnus isn’t cruel enough to say it, but from the haunted look lurking behind Jace’s ill-fitting smile, he doesn’t have to.

Alec pulls a face, unable to argue. “Okay fine, but my point is-“

“You don’t need a bodyguard,” Isabelle says as they enter the lab. “I’d be on your side, Alec, if I hadn’t broken a nail hauling your ridiculously overgrown body out of the sewers.” She’s thrown a lab coat over her outfit: there are stains on her leather boots and her eyeliner is smudged at the corners. Even so, her face is set with determination. “The tests so far are inconclusive. It’s not angelic, but that’s about all we know. Hi Magnus.”

“Isabelle, thank you for calling me.” Even without his magic, there’s no hesitation in her before she hands over the tablet she’s been working on.

“Nobody’s touched it, right?” Alec falls easily into parade rest, his wrists carefully held behind his back.

“No,” Isabelle says. “We’re being careful.”

Alec shoots Jace a pointed look. “See how things work safely when the people involved have more impulse control than a small child?”

Jace waves off the comment with a grunt. “Whatever. Did we figure out why it’s glowing?”

At that, Isabelle moves to one side and Magnus, looking up from the inconclusive data almost laughs at the hand fate has dealt them. “That,” he says, his gazed fixed on the black orb, “is a weapon of Edom.”

Alec drags a hand over his face. “Of course it is.”

Isabelle, less prone to sarcastic hyperbole than either of her brothers, nods as if the answer is something she’s been considering. “I wondered. Do you recognize it?”

Magnus sets down the tablet and moves for a closer look. The orb is roughly the size of a grapefruit and perfectly smooth. Jace is right, it is glowing… although… maybe pulsing is a better word. It’s almost as if the stone has a heartbeat and with every throb, the red light inside it beats stronger.

“I’ve not seen anything like it,” Magnus admits. “But it’s possible I have something in my library that might be useful.”

“We can cross reference with the archives,” Isabelle says, picking up the tablet and making a series of notes. “It knocked Jace out cold the second he touched it, and Alec didn’t even make contact. I don’t like not knowing what it is and what it can do.”

“You have my complete agreement there,” Magnus says. It takes a great deal of power to bring down a Nephilim, and the two _parabatai_ are more powerful than most. Besides, no weapon forged in Edom is to be trifled with. The sooner they identify it and isolate a way to dispose of it safely, the better. “Alec, be a dear and take me home so I can start researching?”

A clatter of trays being knocked off one of the lab tables is all the answer Magnus gets. Alec goes down with a choked gasp, his eyes rolling back in his head. The only thing that saves him from a cracked skull is Jace, who dives forward and catches him under the arms, only to cry out in pain himself and follow Alec down. He clings to consciousness and Alec with equal stubbornness, teeth clenched in agony as his body twitches and spasms. It looks like someone is stabbing him with hot pokers and from the pained sounds he struggles to hold back, it must feel much the same.

Alec is unconscious by the time Magnus reaches him, his whole body snapped tight as he seizes, his eyes rolled so far back into his head that all Magnus can see is white.

“Alec!”

“Jace! What’s happening?” Isabelle leaves Alec to Magnus and rushes to help support Jace. There’s no separating the two brothers. All Isabelle can do is put a shoulder to Jace’s back and prop him upright as he lets out a soft whimper. Tears stream down his face and Magnus can only hover, horrified and stunned at the sight. There’s nothing he can do. No magic cure. Blood smears across Alec’s mouth from where he’s bitten his lip and Magnus can already see the bruises Jace’s stiff, clenching fingers are digging into his flesh.

“Magnus, look!”

His gaze snaps reluctantly from Alec’s face to where the orb glows impossibly bright.

It’s not the only thing glowing. Under their clothing, Jace and Alec’s parabatai runes pulse with golden light.

“Jace!” Isabelle shouts, “Activate your runes!”

Jace just gasps, “Alec!”

It’s clear Alec is the worst affected by what’s happening, but Magnus has no idea if Jace is merely feeling his pain, or if he’s caught in the same powerful attack.

“The orb!” He shouts to Isabelle. She nods, drawing her stele and tracing a rune on her arm.

“Jace! Come on!”

Jace’s eyes snap open and glow with angelic light. Magnus caught a glimpse of them in the alley, but up close, they’re awe-inspiring. There’s no doubt the blood of angels runs through his veins, and within seconds of his eyes flashing, the rest of his body is awash with golden brilliance. He’s not being selective. Every mark flares to life and glows with the same intensity of his  _parabatai_ rune.

Between Isabelle’s active strength rune, the adrenaline tearing through Magnus’s body, and Jace’s angelic power, the three of them stumble out of the lab, dragging Alec with them.

Within minutes, Alec stops seizing and slumps, sliding from Jace’s exhausted grasp into the safety of Magnus’s arms.

“Alec!” Magnus cries, cradling his unconscious boyfriend. Beside him, Isabelle pulls a struggling Jace into her arms.

“Jace, it’s okay. It’s okay!” Isabelle tries to soothe, but Jace doesn’t stop struggling until he can grab hold of Alec’s hand. His eyes are human again, his runes black with the exception of the parabatai bond. That rune gives one last stuttering pulse, then dies out, and Jace topples into Isabelle’s arms, as lost to the world as Alec.


	3. Chapter 3

Clean and unstyled, Alec’s hair is as soft as rabbit fur. Magnus has always enjoyed running his hands through it, enjoyed how quickly he can ease the burden of leadership from Alec’s shoulders with just a few intimate touches. Now, his fingers slightly firmer than usual, it’s the only thing Magnus can do to help the crippling migraines that follow one of the orb’s attacks.

There’ve been four in the space of a week, each becoming progressively worse.

It’s taking Alec longer to recover, the window of respite shortening daily. It’s an uphill struggle to keep him fueled and hydrated, nausea usually following swiftly on a seizure’s heels. The migraines aren’t kind enough to wait for him to finish purging. And now: Magnus on the couch, a pile of demonic texts at his elbow, a pillow on his knee for Alec to rest his head. He’s curled up tightly, his ankles resting over Jace’s legs. The last attack came seven hours ago, and though conscious, Alec hasn’t done much more than groan and tremble since. 

He’s getting weaker. 

On the other end of the couch, looking only marginally less exhausted than Alec, Jace reads the same page of text for the fifth time. 

It’s Jace’s state that tells Magnus the most about Alec’s condition. Magnus has seen Alec - with a dozen shattered ribs and a stab wound - berate and semi-wrestle Jace into medical care and rest looking only half as broken as Jace does now. Jace heals best when someone steps in and takes care of him. Alec heals best when he’s allowed to be the caretaker. The lack of irritable mothering isn’t a good sign, and Jace can see it as well. He’s got one hand curled around Alec’s bare ankle, his thumb absently rubbing over tendon and bone. They both need physical contact after an attack, though it’s hard to know how much of that is a symptom of the weapon’s assault, or their bond simply demanding closeness. 

Magnus has known _parabatai_ before, but he’s never had such close exposure to them. The concept of two bodies, their souls combined, seems almost too good to be true. The _parabatai_ bond makes them stronger, faster, smarter. It’s a safeguard against loneliness. Knowing only those facts, Magnus might question with every Nephilim doesn’t have a _parabatai_. Knowing Alec and Jace gives him access to the full picture, and there’s considerably more darkness involved than he’d expect from an angelic race. Yes, Jace and Alec share joy, but they share the pain as well. They rejoice as one and suffer as one. Magnus has seen Isabelle tease her brother for being an overprotective caveman when it comes to his siblings, and it’s true, but there’s more to it. When Alec and Jace are separated, they operate like they’ve lost a limb. They’re short-tempered, argumentative and impatient. Alec was a different person when Jace was missing, his mind and soul fixed only on the task of finding his _parabatai_. 

“You should get some rest,” Magnus says, watching Jace struggle to concentrate. Jace’s hand tightens around Alec’s ankle, and he ignores Magnus. “I mean it. You’re no good to anyone if you run yourself into the ground.”

“I’m fine,” says Jace. 

Alec stirs against Magnus’s knee, dislodging the cool pack Catarina has enchanted. Magnus presses it back against his forehead, his skin blistering despite the cold press, and traces his fingers over beloved features. He moans and leans into the touch, settling only when Magnus’s fingers return to his scalp and gently massage. 

“It’s alright darling,” Magnus soothes. 

“Jace?” Alec struggles to open his eyes, making Magnus cringe when he finally succeeds. There’s a blood spot next to his left iris, bright and damning against red, raw eyes. The dark circles beneath them have deepened and a week of barely being able to eat have left his face a study in peaks and hollows. All the parts of Alec that have always seemed so strong now leave him looking vulnerable and sick. 

Jace sets down the book he’s not reading. “I’m here, Alec.”

Magnus lets his hands drop gently over Alec’s eyes, shielding him from the daylight streaming into the room. He relaxes a little and fumbles around to hold onto Magnus’s wrist. “You ‘k?”

“Better than you,” Jace says. The smile on his face is one only for Alec, soft and open and overflowing with affection. “You look like crap.”

“S’what Izzy said,” Alec mumbles in agreement. “She ok?”

“Isabelle is back at the Institute,” Magnus assures him. “And before you start fretting about it, Underhill is running the show until you’re back on your feet.”

“Hmm. How long?”

Magnus presumes he means the last seizure. “Nine minutes.” He tries to keep his voice light and free from the heartbreaking terror he still feels when he thinks of it. It won’t be much longer until the next one. And the next.”

It says a lot about how much Alec is hurting that he’s not made an attempt to remove himself from Jace and Magnus’s arms. 

“Any progress?”

“I think it’s a battery,” Jace says, drawing Magnus up sharp. He grins wryly and shrugs his shoulders. “I wasn’t completely zoning out.”

“Share,” Magnus demands, putting a hand on Alec’s shoulder to stop him trying to sit. “You stay there,” he says, horrified at how easy it is to manhandle him.

Jace turns sideways on the couch, repositioning Alec’s legs so they are both more comfortable. “The last one got me thinking,” Jace admits. “This is hitting Alec way worse than it is me, and I think that’s because of the extra angel blood.”

Magnus nods slowly, following Jace’s strain of thoughts and jumping ahead to the next conclusion. “That would make sense. If it’s draining you both, then you’ve got extra juice to tap.”

“S’cheating,” Alec mumbles, nudging Jace with his foot. 

Jace rolls his eyes and carries on, ignoring him. “The cavern we found it in was full of bodies. I assumed they died the same way Lilith’s sacrifices did, but what if they didn’t? What if the orb drained them?”

“And killed them,” Magnus says, ice settling into his blood. 

“That would explain why it’s not just stopped at one attack,” Jace says urgently. “Alec and I aren’t mundane. Even just one of us would give it more power in one go than it’d get from a human.” His eyes fall to the strip of skin showing where Alec’s t-shirt has ridden up. 

“But it’s not just one of you,” Magnus whispers. “The _parabatai_ bond.”

“If it’s feeding on life force, on soul energy… Alec and I are a two-for-one deal, and we were touching when I first-“ he looks away, anguished. 

“Jace, if that’s true, the kind of power this thing is collecting is not to be ignored. We don’t know how many lives it took before it fixed on the both of you.”

“So what you’re saying,” Alec says, reluctantly removing Magnus’s hand and swiping his legs off Jace’s lap, “is that we’re dealing with a demonic, life-stealing orb that’s basically found itself an all you can eat angelic buffet.” His voice is so flat, so are-you-fucking-kidding-me, that Magnus almost smiles. “And aside from the fact that it’s probably going to kill us in the long term, we’ve now got to figure out what to do with the spiritual equivalent of a nuclear bomb without starting another war.”

“Neither the Clave or the Downworld are gonna be happy with the other side possessing this kind of power.” Jace is right, but Magnus can only handle one heartbreaking dilemma at a time.

“Let’s figure out how to stop the two of you dying first, yes?”

Alec nods. “Good idea. Great idea,” he says, standing on wobbly legs and immediately crashing forwards into the coffee table. “I’m fine!” he says quickly, then follows that exclamation by throwing up on Magnus’s antique rug.

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus is tasked with manhandling Alec into the shower, which leaves Jace to juggle cleaning up and filling Izzy in on the details. He’s got the phone on speaker and is scrubbing at the stain on the floor. Alec’s barely kept anything down in days, so it’s little more than water and bile, but it reeks. 

“ _A battery_ ,” Izzy says, her voice loud in the open space of the apartment. Jace’s head is pounding and his vision fuzzy at the edges, but he’s not as bad as Alec, which means it’s his job to do the heavy lifting. He knows the angel blood makes him stronger, and he’d give all that strength to Alec in a second if he had the chance.   
And since he’s the idiot who started all this - again - he’d throw himself over Magnus’s balcony if he thought it might release Alec from the orb’s grip. He doesn’t know that, not now the demonic orb has had a taste, which means he can’t leave Alec to face it alone. " _Maybe that’s what Lilith used it for? Charging it up for a spell?_ ”

“One hell of a spell,” Jace grimaces. He hates thinking of her. Hates her name and the feelings it invokes. He still feels her hands on his skin, her voice in her ear, whispering all the ways she was going to use his body to wreak havoc on the ones he loved most. The damage Jace did while her puppet has destroyed his whole world, but the threats she made… and now, even after everything, she’s finding new ways to hurt them. Jace has helped her once more. 

“ _I’ve got algorithms running_ ,” Izzy says, “ _hopefully we can predict the next attack. If we go to the High Warlock-_ “

“Alec will shit bricks if we take this to Lorenzo,” Jace stops scrubbing and shakes his head, even though she can’t see him. “And the guy’s got it in for Magnus big time. I don’t trust him not to use this to his advantage.” It doesn’t escape Jace that he’s currently the only protection either Alec or Magnus have. Magnus is stripped of all his power, and Alec is as weak as a kitten. They’re both vulnerable. Jace has to keep them safe. 

“ _Then I’m not sure what options we have_ ,” Izzy says “ _the rate Alec’s deteriorating, he’s not going to survive many more attacks, and even with your angel blood..._ ” She doesn’t have to finish. If Alec dies, Jace won’t be waiting for the orb to finish him off, he’ll do the job himself. “ _Unless_ …”

“Unless what?” It’s unlike Izzy to stay quiet about anything, certainly not when Alec’s in trouble, but the silence on the line is deafening. “Unless what Izzy?”

“ _You overcharge the battery. Flood it with more power than it can contain_.”

“And how’re we gonna do that without frying our brains?” Jace scoffs. “If there was a way, someone wouldn’t found it by now. The Clave would have records.”

“ _Unless…. unless it’s only something_ parabatai _can do_ ,” Izzy whispers. “ _Everyone in that cavern was dead. You and Alec are dying. If no one has ever survived it…_ ”

Alec and Magnus carefully emerge from the bedroom. Magnus has an arm around Alec’s waist, practically holding him upright. Alec looks a little brighter, a little less wobbly, but the reality of the situation has never been more clear. He looks like he’s dying, and Jace is going to lose him too. 

“That Iz?” Alec asks.

“ _Hey big brother_ ,” Izzy says softly. “ _How are you feeling_?”

“Better,” Alec says. “What's the update?”

“She thinks she knows how to defeat the arb,” Jace says. 

Magnus almost lurches forwards in anticipation. 

“ _It’s a theory_ ,” Izzy says, “ _and you’re not going to like it_.”

“When do I ever?” Alec grumbles. “Go on.”

_“I was telling Jace we need to overpower the orb. Flood it with more than it can handle_.”

“Like you would a battery,” Magnus nods. “Do the Nephilim have that kind of magic available?”

“ _Yeah. Well, maybe. It’s not well recorded. At all._ ”

“Cut to the chase, Izzy,” Alec says impatiently. “Do you mean a rune, or?”

“ _Not a rune_ ,” Izzy says. “ _Well, technically your_ parabatai _rune...._ ”

Jace frowns, thinking, and then-

“No,” he says, shaking his head almost frantically. No. No. Not happening. 

“ _It could_ -“

“There’s no evidence it would achieve what you’re talking about,” Jace snaps, horrified she’s even suggesting it. “Izzy, no. Find another way.”

“ _Jace_ -“

Jace shoves himself up off his knees and paces the room like a caged tiger. She can’t be asking this of him. Not of him. Not of Alec.

“Could we decode for those of us who don’t speak Lightwood?” Magnus asks, still holding onto Alec. 

“I speak it fluently,” Alec scowls, “and I haven’t got a clue what they’re on about.”

Izzy doesn’t respond, which leaves Jace, almost hyperventilating, to look at his brother and his brother’s lover, and translate. 

He… he can’t find the words. Tears flood his eyes. “Izzy, please,” he begs. 

She’s silent for a moment, then, “ _I’ll keep looking_.”

The line goes dead. Omniously so. 

“An explanation, please?” Magnus begs. 

Jace slumps onto the couch, head in his hands. He might as well be back in Lilith’s control if this is what fate is going to force on him. Her words echo in his head. _“When you wake up, everyone you love will be dead, and your world will be on fire.”_

He hears Alec’s sudden intake of breath. “Eros,” he whispers, horror dripping from the word like acid. 

“Eros?” Magnus asks.

Jace finally forces himself to look at Alec, and loses himself in the blank, broken look in his eyes. “Sex,” Alec spits. “It means we betray everything we vowed when we became _parabatai_. It means Jace and I fuck.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't lie and say I'm not insanely apprehensive about continuing to post this story. 
> 
> You're within your rights to not enjoy the story, and even to tell me as such, but I'd ask you to please refrain from using abusive or aggressive language when you do so. An exchange of opinions can be a wonderfully valuable tool for any writer, but hurling abuse is considerably less useful.
> 
> To those of you who have been kind enough to leave constructive and supportive comments, thank you. You're the reason I haven't just said 'fuck it' and moved on to something else.

The air in Magnus’s loft feels hauntingly like the air down in Edom: thick and stuffy and blistering with dread. There’s something crackling under the surface that he can’t quite define. He can’t really do much of anything.

Alec’s statue-like by the window, a strength summoned from sheer rage. Jace, on the couch, is uncharacteristically still and silent. They’re both far too shadowhuntery. Locking things away behind training and discipline. It’s utterly infuriating.

“So,” Magnus says, marveling at the calmness of his own voice. “We should talk about this, yes?” He refuses to take himself out of the equation. For one, he’s Alec’s boyfriend and has every right to be part of this, and for another, he knows both men well enough to know they’ll quite literally die of stubbornness before dealing with the situation like adults.

Alec, right on cue, growls, “They’re nothing to talk about.”

“How about we start with Eros and what that actually is?” Magnus suggests. “I know the Clave forbids intimacy between parabatai-" physical intimacy at least. He’s seen Alec and Jace when they’ve used the bond and intimate is the least it can be called. “But I figured that was just their good old fashioned homophobia showing through.

“It might be, for all we know,” Jace shrugs a shoulder, wincing as if the act of moving hurts. It might do. He’s looking as bad as Alec. “There are no records, at least not that I know of. Just hearsay.”

“It’s more than hearsay,” Alec frowns at him. “You remember our training.”

“I remember,” Jace says slowly, “and I also remember them telling us that warlocks and vampires were less than people, so… pinch of salt.”

That, Magnus thinks, is probably not the best thing to throw back in Alec’s face right now.

“This prevaricating is fascinating,” his temper is fraying, worn thin by exhaustion and fear and the crippling helplessness of knowing that his recent inadequacy is part way to blame. Even without the loss of his magic, it all comes down to Lilith. To the potion Magnus made her. None of this- He takes a broken breath and tries to unearth calm from centuries of practice. “But can we stop talking around the subject? Isabelle seemed to think this would give you some kind of extra power?”

“She's not completely wrong,” Alec says. That’s… not the answer Magnus is expecting.

“How?”

Alec turns away to look out the window and Magnus is almost grateful he doesn’t still have the power to shatter the glass in frustration.

Jace, sympathetic to either Alec’s turmoil or Magnus’s anxiety, fills in the gaps. “The stories all say that if a _parabatai_ pair engage in carnal activity, it strengthens the bond beyond imagination and gives them the ability to use magic.”

“Actual magic?” Facinating. And rather terrifying.

Jace nods. “They become something close to a warlock. But, we’re not made to use magic, not like that. It… corrupts. It…”

“Drives them into homicidal madness,” Alec finishes flatly. “They lose the ability to see friend or ally. Anyone who isn’t their _parabatai_ becomes a threat they have to eliminate. It turns them into the very things they’ve fought against their whole lives.”

Magnus feels his brow furrow in thought as a sudden, aching realization hits him in the chest.

“That’s why you convinced yourself you were in love with Jace,” he says softly. It’s a terrible time to be reminding all of them of Alec’s childhood crush: both Alec and Jace cringe, though for likely dissimilar reasons. Still, it all makes a sudden, heartbreaking sense. “You knew nothing would ever be able to come of it.”

Alec continues to glare out the window, refusing to turn and face them. His hands, usually held loosely behind his back, are crossed over his chest, a visible barrier between him and the world. “It… it was easier. If it was something I knew I could never have. I’d never have to face up to what I am. Jace was also literally the only guy my age, so…”

On the couch, Jace looks stricken. As far as Magnus knows, they’ve never actually talked about any of this. They’ve just absorbed and moved on. Magnus wonders if Alec will ever be able to unpick the miserable mess that made up his childhood: if he can look back with mature eyes and see the innocent crush of a boy struggling with his sexuality and not the chaotic tangle of guilt and isolation it twisted into.

“Cowardly, really,” Alec finishes. “I convinced myself it was love and I didn’t know otherwise. Now I do.” He finally turns, the anger falling from his expression as his eyes lock with Magnus’s.

“Alec,” Jace’s voice breaks in the silence that follows. “I’ll always love you, but wasn’t romance you wanted from me, it was safety. I’m sorry I could never give you that.” He shakes his head, pulling into himself. Magnus knows some of the careless, thoughtless things Jace has said and done over the years, and he knows Jace is now experiencing that bitter, painful thing known as hindsight.

Just like that, the walls are up again and Alec closes off. “It’s not – don’t ever apologize. None of this is on you. And we’re going off subject. We don’t know what parts of the story are true and what parts are a lie, but even if we _did_ decide to risk undoing a thousand years of safeguarding on the off chance our heads won’t explode, I’m not cheating on my boyfriend with my brother.”

The words draw Magnus back in surprise. That’s… that’s what they’re talking about, isn’t it? Putting aside the Clave doctrine and all associated horrors, they’re quite literally talking about Alec having sex with someone else. With Jace.

And, whether Alec’s figured shit out in his head or not, Magnus is under no illusion how his priorities lie. Jace has always and will always top his list. And now… now Magnus has even less to offer Alec than ever.

Possessed, Jace said it himself: Magnus already has to share Alec’s heart. Funny how something so easy to brush off now whispers in his ear like a ghost.

“We’ll find another way,” Jace promises. “We can go to Idris, to the Clave-“

“And get yourselves both arrested if it does come down to-“ Magnus isn’t sure how to finish that sentence.

Alec practically vibrates with anger. “Not. Happening.”

“There’s always the option of going to my father,” Magnus suggests. “It _is_ a weapon of Edom. Maybe he can-“

Somehow, Alec manages to get even angrier. “I’ll let my brain turn to jello before I let you within a dimension of that asshole,” he growls.

Magnus’s temper isn’t much better, and Alec has always had a skill for pushing his buttons. “Because that’s exactly the outcome we want from this situation, isn’t it?” He’s on his feet before he knows it, frightened and furious. Alec has to brace his hand against the window just to stay upright, but the weakness in his body does little to temper the strength of his anger.

“The last time you saw him, he stole your immortality and your powers!” Alec snaps, the hand that’s not holding himself upright extended, finger pointed in accusation.

“He didn’t _steal_ them, I traded them!”

“And what will happen if he gets his hands on you now, huh?” Alec demands. “You’re completely powerless against him! No. No way.”

The words sting and they’re meant to. Magnus struggles not to recoil, hiding hurt behind a clenched jaw.

“What about Seelie?” Jace interjects desperately. Magnus has forgotten he’s still in the room. “I mean this is kinda up the Queen’s alley.”

Alec doesn’t break eye contact with Magnus when he answers. “We can’t afford to show that kind of vulnerability.”

“Fuck vulnerability,” Jace says, “another attack and your brain is gonna start leaking out your ears. Don’t you dare say you’re fine!”

Alec has, indeed, just opened his mouth to say just that. He stops. Takes a breath, his eyes closed. When he opens them again, his face is young and hurting. “I can’t put you in danger,” he says to Magnus. “Please don’t go to Asmodeus.” He asks because he knows Magnus as well as Magnus knows him. He knows Magnus will find a way to see his father if he thinks it will help.

“Then we go to Seelie,” Magnus says gently. He closes the gap between them and takes Alec’s hand in his own, kissing him softly.

“Promise me,” Alec pleads. “Promise.”

Magnus closes his eyes. “I promise I won’t seek out my father.”

Alec pushes himself off the window and into Magnus, who doesn’t have to brace himself the way he normally might. Alec feels brittle and bruised under his hands, and when he kisses Magnus again, it’s with the taste of copper in their mouths. “Thank you,” he whispers, tucking his face into Magnus’s neck and holding him tight. “We’ll go to the Seelie Court.”

 

* * *

 

It takes them another two hours to get to Seelie, which puts them at nearly half a day since the last attack. If Isabelle’s predictions are correct, they only have a matter of hours until the next. They’re running out of time.

Jace is noticeably more withdrawn, locked inside his own head and oblivious to most of the instructions Magnus gives him while trying to juggle two exhausted, overwrought Shadowhunters. In the cab, he and Alec sit on either side of Magnus, not touching each other the way they have been since all this began. They both suffer for it: Magnus watches them get tense and agitated, even as they both tremble in exhaustion. In the end, he rolls his eyes with an audible sigh. He takes one of Alec’s hands and one of Jace’s and rests them, palm to palm on his knee. When either of them tries to protest, Magnus shoots them down with a withering glare.

Eventually, their fingers curl together and some of the tension eases from their shoulders.

Physical contact is healing when it comes from a loved one, and that’s doubly so for _parabatai_.

Smug, Magnus crosses his arms over his chest and makes small talk with their driver.

The distance returns when they arrive at the entrance to Seelie. Jace storms ahead, leaving Magnus to be glared at by Alec, who stubbornly insists he doesn’t need any help.

“By all means!” Magnus says, temper flaring again, “Falling flat on your face conveys so much more strength than relying on another for help.

For a moment, Magnus can almost see Alec giving in. He wants to, that much is clear. But-

“Save me from stubborn Lightwoods!” Magnus grumbles.

They make it to the clearing where the Seelie Queen holds court when Alec finally stumbles. At first, he thinks it’s just exhaustion, but the stagger is followed by a low, pained gasp.

No! No! It’s too soon! It’s too soon, and Magnus hasn’t told Alec that he loves him! They've been _arguing_!

Magnus and Jace make eye contact across the clearing, a message conveyed with such imperceptible speed Magnus is hardly aware of what passes himself.

Alec’s already going down, legs folding in on themselves, his whole body limp and barely clinging to consciousness. The power of the Seelie Court is slowing the process, making the orb work harder to reach them here, in this magical place, but it can’t protect them forever.

Magnus can see the whites of Alec’s eyes as the orb traps him in its grasp.

Then Jace, his golden skin so pale Magnus can almost see the blood pounding beneath the surface, shoots across the clearing so fast it has to be powered by a rune. He wraps his arms around Alec, holding him awkwardly upright with one hand and angling his head with the other.

There’s blood on Alec’s face, pouring from his nose and ears. Magnus’s heart stops beating, terror and hope sharp and sour on his tongue.

Jace isn’t waiting for permission from either Alec or Magnus now. His _parabatai_ rune is glowing, throbbing, and his face is creased with agony. Alec’s dying. They’re both dying.

Folding down to his knees with Alec in his arms, Jace leans close and kisses him, hard. It’s clumsy and painful looking. There’s no passion or desire behind it, just pure, unadulterated terror. The jealousy Magnus has feared never comes. He’s not jealous of Jace. He’s horrified for him. And for Alec, whose gentle heart is going to be broken, no matter the outcome now.

Throwing caution to the wind, Magnus races to their sides and hopes - prays - that this desperate Hail Mary will somehow work.

Once again, Jace’s runes are all lit from within, but this time, they don’t glow alone. Alec, still barely clinging to consciousness, his mouth soft and parted beneath Jace’s, is starting to glow as well as his runes light up in response to the power Jace is trying so frantically to share. For a moment, they both glow so brightly and so purely that Magnus swears he can feel a touch of Grace gently reach out and brush his consciousness.

Then the glowing stops, flickering out all of a sudden as the orb’s grip on them fails, and the surge of power dies.

Magnus hits his knees and manages to brace a hand against Jace’s shoulder as he sways weakly. He helps Jace carefully ease Alec down to lay against the leaf-strewn floor and can’t help but try brush away streaks of blood with his thumb. All he manages to do is smear it brightly across the ghostly pale hollows of Alec’s cheek.

The blood is new. But Alec is still conscious. Something’s changed, and Magnus can’t deny the fact that Jace’s actions are most likely the reason.

Hypothetical becomes reality. This might save their lives.

It might doom them to something worse.

It’ll almost certainly break them both.

Even Magnus, as close as he is to Alec, can’t read the expression on his face. Jace is easier to interpret: he’s wearing the same horrified, hopeless look he wore after stabbing Alec in the chest. Jace, if nothing else, has reached the same conclusion Magnus has, and the grief is already hitting him hard.

He looks at Magnus with wet, heartbroken eyes, his chin trembling. “I’m sorry,” he says brokenly. “I’m so sorry.”

Alec makes a sudden, abortive move to grab Jace’s arm, but fails to actually stop him from staggering to his feet and rushing from the clearing. Alec tries to call out, but all he manages is a pained choke. There’s blood on his teeth.

Magnus wraps his arms around him and pulls Alec to his chest, holding him so tightly he hopes it tells the world how very fucked it will be if it tries to take Alec from his arms. “I’ve got you, Alexander,” Magnus tells him, his lips against Alec’s ear. “You’re alright. You’re going to be fine. I love you.”

Alec, his strong, brave, stubborn Alec, merely turns his face into Magnus’s chest and trembles through the aftereffects of the orb’s attack.

For a moment, a fragile protective shell of quiet falls upon them, allowing Magnus to gently comb his fingers through Alec’s hair, and to hold him.

The silence is shattered by a childish voice, high pitched and almost shrill with amusement. “What _have_ you boys been up to?”

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your wonderful feedback on the last chapter.
> 
> A note because it comes up every time I update: the story is tagged Jace/Alec because that is the situation they find themselves in thanks to the evil curse mcguffin. Jace and Alec have no romantic feelings for each other at all, and the actual sex itself is implied, not described. The physical act isn't what the story is about. 
> 
> That all said, this is a monster of a chapter and has some potentially triggering themes. No one is in a good place right now.

  
Jace makes it to the edge of the clearing before he realizes what he’s done. There’s nothing in his stomach to expel, but he tries, falling to his knees and dry heaving, his head pounding in time with the rapid, humming-bird beat of his heart.

Every part of his body hurts, but deeper than that, somewhere between bone and soul, he feels something take hold that he’ll never be able to remove. The sick, unclean taint Lilith has already left him with is growing, reaching out to infect everyone around him. It’s a parasite, clawing its way throughout his system, searching for something it can corrupt. The _parabatai_ bond between him and Alec that has so far damned and saved them both is now nothing but a chain, tying Alec to the dead weight that is Jace’s soul.

Everything Jace touches, he ruins. Everyone he loves, he destroys. Alec’s made it clear where he stands on Eros. He’s drawn a resolute line in the sand, and Jace has just dragged him over it. He gave in to a moment of terror, of the sudden, sickly feeling in his gut that said Alec would die if he did nothing, and he made up his mind.

Alec didn’t stop him because he couldn’t. Under the orb’s hold, it’s all he can do to cling to the fraying threads of his life. Away from it, he’s been sapped of strength so violently that it won’t make a difference how much he might try to resist.

Jace took a gamble that maybe, just maybe, committing Eros would save them.

Now, it looks like it might.

The question is if they can live with themselves if they go ahead.

It’s whether Jace is willing to force Alec if he refuses.

Jace’s life alone would be no question. The only thing he has left to lose is Alec, and if they die from this, they’ll die together. It’s certainly the easier option. He’s tired, and the only part of him that doesn’t hurt, that doesn’t want to just give in and sleep forever, is the part that’s entwined with Alec.

It’s not just Jace’s life. It’s Alec’s. It’s Magnus’s. It’s the changes the two of them are making in the Downworld and the Clave together.

If Jace dies, the world won’t mourn.

If Alec dies, the future they’ve fought so hard for ends with him.

The moment he hears the Queen’s taunting voice from across the clearing, he attempts to struggle to his knees. It’s a pained, abortive effort that he manages through pure stubbornness alone. Stumbling back to where he left Alec and Magnus, he tries not to flinch when he sees the blood smeared across Alec’s face.

Touching his mouth tentatively, his fingers come away red, and the urge to throw up returns.

Alec leans into Magnus as he weakly stumbles to his feet. He sways, legs unsupportive and weak, and refuses to look Jace in the eye.

“You don’t look well, Mr. Lightwood,” the Queen says in her little girl voice. “Would you like to sit down?”

Alec shakes his head, his mouth opening and closing as he visibly tries to focus enough to speak.

On an elevated platform, surrounded by courtiers and wildflowers, the Queen looks down on them with moss-colored eyes, a hint of a smile on her berry-stained lips.

For the first time, she is not the most frightening thing Jace has seen in Faerie.

Stood at her side, tall and towering with wide, twisted horns and a face divided between unworldly beauty and grotesque disfigurement, the Unseelie King eyes them curiously. Jace has never had the need, nor the desire, to seek out the Unseelie, and as far as he knows, the two courts are still engaged in a centuries-long cold war. Seeing them together now is… well, Jace only has the headspace for one shattering crisis at a time. If they live to tomorrow, he’ll worry about it then.

“Two fallen angels and a demon princeling clipped of his claws. You do get the most fascinating guests here in Seelie,” the King muses, his one unmaimed eye bright and penetrating. “And this one is bleeding. Tell me, warlock, is his blood as sweet as it looks? Did you bring him here for us to taste?”

Jace responds before Magnus has a chance. It’s not the most diplomatic, and Alec’s almost certainly going to give him hell for it later, but Jace’s ability to handle anyone’s bullshit but his own is at an all-time low. “Fuck you.” Hatred is the only thing keeping him upright.

Besides the Queen, the Unseelie King hides the blood-soaked grin of a predator behind sharp teeth. “Don't you mean fuck him?” He raises a long, indolent finger and points towards Alec. “I've been around a long time, Jace Herondale. I know exactly where that little kiss leads to. I'm almost jealous you know? We've all wondered what's so special about the little Shadowhunter that's turned _Magnus the Magnificent_ off a century of... casual dalliances. Perhaps you can be persuaded to give us a show?” Jace has never so desperately wanted Magnus to have his powers back as he does right now. With them, the Unseelie King would now be a writhing, flame-licked ruin on the ground. Magnus has a flawless poker face, but Jace can almost see Edom burning in his eyes. Powers or not, the King is on fractured ice.

Jace has been on the receiving end of sexual innuendo for years now: it rolls from him like water off a duck’s back, an inevitable consequence of the persona he's created himself. Alec, who has always tried so hard to shy away from the spotlight, to fade into an unremarkable shadow, is taken completely off guard. His pained, heavy-lidded eyes blink slowly, as if he's not quite sure what's being said to him or why.

Jace moves pointedly to his side and bares his teeth.

Magnus, with the flames of Hell in his eyes, if not his voice, says mildly, “Jealously is terribly unbecoming, Arawn.”

“So is desperation,” Arawn says lazily. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? First, you give up your powers for this boy, now you come here pleading for his life. Either you’ve gone soft in your old age, or he’s really that good a fuck.”

Alec’s sudden grip on the both of them is all that stops Jace and Magnus from ripping the King’s face off.

“As much fun as it is discussing my sex life with complete strangers,” Alec says, each word slow and carefully spoken, coherency still a struggle. “I wasn’t aware the Unseelie spoke for this Court.” It looks like it costs him the last of his strength to speak.

The Seelie Queen smiles enigmatically. “They do not,” she says, silencing her counterpart with a shake of her wrist. “My Lord Arawn was just leaving.”

Whatever history there is between Magnus and Arawn, the King is clearly not about to upset the delicate balance between Unseelie and Seelie just to antagonize him. He bows his head to the Queen, and she responds in kind.

As he passes through the glade, Jace forcefully drags a scowling Alec further away from him. The King isn’t interested in Alec now, though. His gaze is for Magnus. “I warned you not to trust the Nephilim. They’ll bring death to all of us.”

Jace is close enough to hear the way Alec's breath catches painfully.

Magnus, however, merely rolls his eyes. “Oh do run home, Arawn. Your opinion stopped being relevant in the Dark Ages.”

The Queen giggles as the King departs. “I do like you, Mr. Bane. You are my very favorite warlock. Or should I say former warlock? You’re not really much better than a mundane now, are you?”

“A temporary setback,” Magnus says, a practiced, politician’s smile on his face.

The Queen claps her hands. “Then you shall be my favorite warlock again. Until then, favorite mundane it is.”

“Your Majesty is too kind,” Jace can read the grimace in Magnus’s smile, even if no one else can.

“I am, aren’t I? Tell me, why do you bring me two broken Shadowhunters? You’ve always been so careful with your toys.”

“We’re right here,” Jace snaps, managing not to recoil when her gaze turns on him.

“Physically, at least. Your souls are far, far away. Did we touch something we shouldn’t have, Shadowhunter?”

She’s so small and so frail, Jace could snap her neck like a twig. He breathes in sharply, teeth grinding together.

“You know about the orb?” Magnus asks.

She inclines her head regally. “I was made aware of the existence of a weapon of Edom. I advised my people to stay well away. Apparently, your friends weren’t so clever.”

“They’re dying,” Magnus says. “And I have no power to stop it. I hoped-“

“You hoped I’d save the day,” the Queen says. “It’s true, they do serve a purpose few Shadowhunters ever have.”

“Still here,” Jace grits his teeth harder. Alec’s silence is deafening. He’s still conscious, but Jace is pretty sure no one is home. “And Alec’s done more for the Downworld as Head of the Institute than anyone before him.”

“Debatable,” she says. “But I am almost fond him.”

“Then you’ll help?” Jace is impressed Magnus is able to keep the raw desperation out of his voice.

“If I could, yes. But you don’t need my help.”

“That’s why we came here!” Jace explodes. “That’s why-“

“You’re quite capable of saving yourselves. And besides, I am very curious to see what happens.”

Jace fucking bets she is. He bets she’s got plans for the orb once it’s done with them, as well.

“Please,” Magnus says softly. “Please help us.”

The Queen sits back, a clear indication that her time with them is done. “I won’t,” she says. “But I do wish you luck.”

Alec’s response is to cough a mouthful of blood at her feet. It’s not quite the _fuck you_ Jace has in mind, but it’ll do.

 

* * *

 

  
Back at the loft, Jace cleans up, putting in an update to Izzy while Magnus manhandles a barely coherent Alec into clean clothes and puts him to bed. Now, Magnus sits down opposite Jace at the table and sets two mugs between them. Jace lifts one up and frowns in disappointment when it reveals itself to be entirely full of coffee, not whiskey.

“I wasn't expecting Arawn to be at Court,” Magnus says wearily. “Forgive me. I’d never have brought either of you into his presence had I known.”

Oh, there’s defiantly a history there. Jace makes a mental note to ask when they aren’t all about to die, then shakes his head. It's not Magnus’s fault the King is a dick. “I kinda get the feeling he doesn't like us. Or you.”

“He doesn't like Nephilim,” Magnus says. “Me, he sees as being a traitor to the Downworld. His issue with you is somewhat more personal. He's your great great great great-“ Magnus pauses, thinking, “great grandfather? I think? I lost track of you all before Will started to make himself a nuisance.”

“You knew Will Herondale?” Jace has heard some of the stories. He knows he shouldn't be surprised, but-

“Knew. Rescued. Was occasionally driven into homicidal rages by.” There's something almost fond in the way Magnus speaks that suggests even if he'd not liked Will much when he was alive, time and distance has inspired a kinder recollection of his memory.

“Runs in the family, huh?” Jace says with a fractured smile.

“Oh that's an understatement,” Magnus laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You're marginally less annoying and infinitely more trouble.” Jace feels his expression freeze, and Magnus's smile becomes gentle. “He was a good man. You are, too, Jace. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Good men don't do what I'm about to do,” Jace struggles to speak around the lump that grows in his throat. He's resigned himself to paying any price necessary to pay Magnus back for what he's done, and he'll lay his life down for Alec gladly and without hesitation. But _this?_ This is cruel in ways even Jace has yet to experience.

No matter what happens now, he's going to lose Alec. Whether the bond breaks or not, whether they even survive it, Alec will be lost to him. The prospect of that loneliness is utterly terrifying, yet what can Jace do?

Magnus lays a hand on his arm. He's wise in ways only experience can bring, and equally as pragmatic. He, out of all of them, might get over this enough to hold Alec together when it all breaks apart.

“He’s going to shut himself off,” Jace says, knowing Alec better than he knows himself. “Don't let him lock you out. He needs you.”

“He needs _both_ of us,” Magnus says firmly. Jace can't help but wonder what Clary would make of all this. If she'd be angry or jealous or if she, like Magnus, would understand that Jace is less than nothing without Alec soul entwined with his own. She is - was - kind like Magnus is kind. Jace thinks she might've understood. That she might be able to forgive him for what he's about to do when - if - they ever find each other again.

“I lost Clary,” Jace chokes, too tired and too broken to try and hide his tears from Magnus. “I lost her, and I'll never be whole again. I wouldn't wish that on anyone, least of all you. I can't lose Alec as well.”

Magnus’s expression is infinitely kind. “Jace-“ he's going to say something profound and knowledgeable and Jace isn't stupid, Magnus has lost people he loves before. He understands, but-

“If Alec dies tomorrow,” Jace asks him, “will you get over it? Will you ever stop hurting?”

Grief wells in Magnus’s dark eyes. It takes him a moment to answer. “Even when I was immortal, I never imagined a future in which I didn't love Alec with every fiber of my being.” His gaze darts over to the bedroom, soft and fond and anguished.

“And if you were still immortal? If you knew you'd have to live without him one day, could you accept that day is going to be today?” Jace can’t imagine loving someone and knowing he’ll outlive them by centuries. He already has moments where he feels he is in danger of forgetting the exact shade of Clary’s eyes when she’s standing in the sunlight. In a year, in ten years, will he still remember them?

Instead of answering, Magnus asks his own question. “Would you not set the world on fire for just another second with Clary?”

Jace doesn’t hesitate. “I’d damn it to Hell.”

Magnus closes his eyes and shakes his head, a sad, beaten smile on his face. “What a pair we are.”

“Valentine was right,” Jace says bitterly, looking down into his coffee and willing a solution to present itself. “To love is to destroy.”

“To love is to risk,” Magnus corrects. “And to live. Without it, we're nothing more than atoms circling each other in a void. Knowing how much you hurt now, would you go back and trade what you had with Clary to escape from it?”

It's shameful, but Jace has to think about it. He wants to say yes. He wants to say he wishes he's never known love the way he's known it, he wishes he's never had to learn how to live without it. But he can't. Each selfish, shameful moment is overpowered by a memory of Clary’s smile. Of the wholeness and happiness he found in her arms.

“No,” he gasps. “It's worth it. Every second is worth it.”

“That's love,” Magnus tells him. “The pain, yes, but the strength as well. With it, we can endure just about anything.”

Jace shoves the heels of his palms into his eyes to stave off the tears. “You're pretty good at this,” he says, grateful to Magnus for so many things.

Magnus just smiles. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” he says wistfully. “I've loved many in my time. And I've never gotten over any of them. I'll never get over Alec. I'd never want to. My life, mortal or immortal, is better for loving him. I am better for loving him.”

“But you'd still kill for him.” Jace doesn’t doubt that for a second. For Alec, there’s nothing Magnus won’t risk.

“I said it made me better. Not perfect.” Jace nods. He sets down the mug and pushes his chair back. Before he can stand, Magnus’s hand curls over his wrist. “Let me talk to him first?”

In that short request, the enormity of Magnus’s love is reveled. He knows exactly what Jace has decided to do, and he’s asking for a chance to make it easier on both of them.

“This is happening,” Jace’s voice breaks. “Whether you convince him or not. I won't let him die.” He’s crying, and now Magnus is, as well. The words hang heavy in their air, suffocating with the intention behind them, and the enormous weight of the unforgivable act Jace is willing to commit to save Alec’s life.

Magnus circles the table and to Jace’s surprise kisses him on the forehead. It’s the kind of kiss Alec gives Isabelle and Max. It’s the kind of kiss Alec’s given Jace in the past, and now never will again. It’s one of friendship and family, love and support. It’s not something Jace deserves, but he’ll greedily take it. When all this is over, his intention won’t matter, only his actions.

Jace has always known he’s capable of great evil. Now he’s about to prove it.

 

* * *

 

 

Alec isn’t sleeping when Magnus enters the bedroom. He’s sat at the foot of the bed, staring into space, his eyes shadowed and heavy. There’s more alertness in his face  than the last time Magnus saw him, and that’s a bittersweet relief. This isn’t a conversation he wants to have, but one he needs Alec coherent for regardless.

He doesn’t look up when Magnus sits on the floor by his side. “Is Jace okay?” He’s fiddling with the edge of his shirt, something that happens so rarely it takes Magnus a moment to realize how close to panic Alec really is. What happened at Seelie has shaken away the last of his stubbornness and left the fear free to break loose.

Magnus sets a hand over fidgeting fingers and squeezes. “Not really.”

Alec nods once, short and sharp, as if expecting nothing less. “Are _you_?”

“I’ve been better,” he admits. He longs to pull Alec against him, to hold him and shelter him from the pain that’s coming. “I’m more concerned about you.”

“I don’t think I’ll survive another attack,” he says, surprising Magnus with the plain honesty of his statement. Alec’s not a liar, but he’s notoriously tight-lipped when it comes to his own wellbeing. “It felt different, but I know I won’t…. I don’t want to fight with you.”

“Nor I you,” Magus agrees, unable to stop the tears from rolling down his face. “Alexander-“

“I’m not having sex with Jace,” Alec says, his voice flat and hopeless now, where it had been angry and scared before. “I can’t.”

The fear that wraps around Magnus’s heart is not the same one that grips him when the orb attacks. This one is primal and wrapped in horror. “It won’t change anything,” he says frantically. “Between us, I mean. It won’t change how I feel about you,” he reaches up and cups his hand under Alec’s jaw, drawing his pale face towards his own. “It won’t change how much I love you. If that’s what you’re-“

Alec shakes his head, cutting him off and finally meeting Magnus’s gaze. “That’s not it. I mean,” he swallows, tears clinging to his lashes but not yet falling, “I like that I’m yours. That you’re the only one. I don’t want to betray that. I don’t want to betray you.”

“You’re not!” Magnus rushes to assure him. Selfishly, he’s liked that, too. Everything Alec has learned about sex, he’s learned with Magnus, and that’s special, yes. His innocence and growth has been a balm to a very weary soul, but it’s not what Magnus loves about him. It’s not what he cares about. It’s not more valuable than his life.

“I know,” Alec says, and it looks like he believes it.

Magnus brings his other hand to Alec’s cheek, cradling his head, holding him like he’s the most precious thing in the world. “Then why?” Because it’s Jace? Because he feels guilty? Like he’s somehow taking advantage of Jace, like the crush he once harbored is being thrown back in his face as a punishment? Alec’s tenancy for self-hatred is eclipsed only by Jace’s, so who knows what shape his thoughts are being twisted into?

Alec presses a hand over one of Magnus’s and leans into the warmth of his palm. “Because if it works? If the stories are true? If I lose my grip on sanity and become this monstrous _thing_ … I’d rather die now than forget you. Or worse, _hurt_ you.”

Realization dawns but brings with it no relief. That’s what Alec’s afraid of? It working?

“That _won’t_ happen.”

Alec clearly doesn’t believe him. “Won’t it? We’re counting on this to give us the power we need to survive the orb, but things like that never come without a price. I’m not willing to risk it.”

Magnus clenches his jaw stubbornly. “ _I am_. We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it. _Together_.”

Alec shakes his head and tries to pull away. Magnus holds him firm and hates the flash of alarm in Alec’s eyes when he realizes how weak he’s been left by the orb’s attack. “I’m not changing my mind.”

It never occurs to Alec that his choice in the matter is limited. It never occurs to him that Jace is willing to damn his soul to save him. In the stubborn set of his jaw, Magnus sees an end to everything he loves. If Alec refuses -

“What about Jace?” he demands, growing frantic. “Doesn’t he deserve a chance?” Alec almost recoils, shocked that Magnus is willing to play that card.

“Jace understands,” he says firmly, so certain in his understanding that he misses the glaringly obvious. Magnus wants to shake him.

Beyond that though, is the knowledge that Alec is putting Magnus before everything - even before Jace. The painful, lonely part of Magnus’s soul that has always longed for someone to make that choice and put him first can take no comfort from it now.

“Then what about me?” Magnus almost sobs. It’s becoming almost impossible not to give in and beg. “I’ve lost everything, Alec. You can’t ask me to lose you, too.”

Alec finally loses his fight against his tears. They roll down his face, burning where they touch Magnus’s skin. He tries to shake his head, tries to pull away, a whispered apology lost to a hiccuped sob.

“You know the one good thing that’s come from me losing my powers?” Magnus asks. Alec shakes his head again, closing his eyes in misery. “Knowing that you and I are going to grow old together. Knowing that I won’t ever have to try and live without you. That you won’t end up just a trinket in a box, my heart growing colder with every year that passes without you by my side.”

It’s low, and desperate, and aimed at every vulnerability and longing Alec has. He can hate himself for it later, when Alec is alive, when he comes out of this thinking that he’s always had the choice.

“Magnus-“

“Whatever happens, whatever the outcome, we will face it. I love you. And I trust you. I’ve fought Hell for you, Alexander, and I’ll fight Heaven too if I must.”

Alec’s face creases with misery. “You shouldn’t say that, you shouldn’t-“

Closing the gap between them, Magnus kisses him. He tastes of salt and pain, but he meets Magnus with equal fervor, his mouth welcoming and demanding in turn and his hands clenched tightly around Magnus’s wrists.

Magnus kisses him with the knowledge that it might be the last time he has the chance. He tries to pour every ounce of love into the space between them, to wrap it around them both. If this is it, if Eros fails, and Alec dies, he can’t do so without the knowledge of how very much Magnus loves him seared into his soul. Pressing closer, he climbs into Alec’s lap, not stopping until there’s barely room for air between them. He can feel the frantic shudder of Alec’s heartbeat and taste the sour sickness of desperation on his skin. Alec’s ghostly pale, bruises around his bloodshot eyes, his lips dry and rough. He trembles under Magnus’s hands, weak and stripped bare of the strength and poise he’s always worn like armor. But he's alive, and Magnus has never found him more beautiful.

“You said you love me,” he whispers, their foreheads together, their lips only a breath apart.

“I do,” Alec says. “I love you more than anything.” He tries to steal another kiss, but Magnus holds him firm.

He’s tried to reason with Alec. He’s begged and he’s pleaded. All foolish, futile efforts. He’s been aiming at the wrong part of Alec’s heart.

Holding Alec’s face firm in his hands, Magnus forces eye contact. “Then fight. You’re a warrior, Alexander. You’re a Lightwood. You don’t give up because the choices are hard, or because things might go badly. You fight, and you face the consequences.”

And if those consequences are as severe as Alec fears them to be, they’ll face them together. There’s no way to tell Alec that Magnus will gladly accept death at his hands. There’s no way to own that selfishness once it’s aired.

There’s been times when Magnus has wanted to drown in Alec’s eyes, but this time, he’s searching for something lurking deep in the depths of them.

“Jace is outside, ready to do whatever it takes to save your life. You can damn well meet him halfway. Or are you going to let Lilith take him from you again?”

Alec’s breath leaves him in a gush. His forehead hits Magnus’s as he slumps, but his acquiescence is nothing like a defeat. “I can’t decide if you’re the best or worst motivational speaker.”

Magnus’s smile comes with a fresh fall of tears. “Both?”

“I love you,” Alec says, kissing each of Magnus’s cheeks and cleansing away the traces of his anguish. “But I hate this.”

Running his hands through Alec’s hair, Magnus hums in agreement. “So do I. But we’ll make it through it. No matter what happens, I’ll be right by your side.” He feels Alec tense, then hastily clarifies, “Not literally, while you’re-“

“Fucking?” Alec asks bluntly, as if the sharp rudeness of it will somehow force Magnus to change his mind.

“Yes. That. I’ll… wait in the kitchen.” 

“How is this our lives?” Alec mumbles. He wraps both of his long arms around Magnus’s waist and holds him tightly, the same way a child might cling to someone or something they associate with safety and comfort. It’ll break Magnus’s heart to pull away from him, and he can only whisper a silent prayer of thanks when Alec’s own stubborn resolve forces him to reluctantly let go.

Magnus helps him to his feet, hovering in case his legs fail to hold him steady.

Alec looks around the bedroom, lost. “Not here. I can’t. Not in-“ his gaze falls on the bed, neatly made and pilled with pillows. Their bed. He gets the impression that Alec would rather do the deed anywhere other than in their home, but the options, and time, are limited. The Institute is out of the question, and no hotel would be easily secured.

“Guest room?” Magnus suggests. They can redecorate, later, if that’s what Alec needs.

Jace is waiting in the hallway, a full glass of whiskey in hand. “It looked expensive,” he says, handing it to Alec. “It might… I don’t know….” He can’t meet Alec’s gaze. If he’s waiting for Alec to reach out and close the unspoken gap between them, he’ll be waiting forever. Alec’s three seconds from changing his mind and bolting, Magnus can see as much just from the way he’s standing.

Turning slowly, Alec heads towards the guest room. He leaves Magnus behind, and the door open.

In the second that his back is turned, Magnus watches the walls Jace clings to crumble into ash. He’s laid bare, cracked wide open, and Magnus has to look away, unable to face that much pain with the knowledge that he can’t do anything to help.

When he finally looks back, Jace hovers on the threshold of the guest room, every inch a man standing at the foot of the gallows, waiting for the noose to tighten.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another monster of a chapter I am afraid. 
> 
> Warnings going into this one: the last chapter left Jace and Alec leaving to complete Eros to try and survive the magical macguffin that's slowly killing them. This chapter picks up immediately after. While there is no description of the scene between Jace and Alec, the first 2/3s of the story deal with the immediate aftermath and contain discussions of rape. If you'd like to skip this part, you can jump to *** in the story and pick up back at the Institute. That said, discussions of rape, non-consensual and dubious consensual sex will feature fairly strongly in the rest of the story and there is a brief mention of it in the 3rd part of the story. 
> 
> What I'm saying in a truly inelegant fashion is that everyone has talked around the issue up until this point, and now has to find a way of living with the consequences. This one is hurty.

Magnus lasts all of ten minutes in the kitchen before marching into his office. For all that he’s convinced Alec that he’s calm and in control, now it’s actually happening, he’s anything but. His office is the closest thing he has to a sanctuary outside of Alec’s embrace. He needs a minute of calm. Of peace. He needs to not be trapped within the role he’s assigned himself.

He needs to not be _Magnus Bane_ , the man with all the answers. The man who holds everything together. When what’s done is done, when Alec and Jace come out of that room, even if everything goes to plan, Magnus will need to be strong for them.

He will be. Gladly, and with an open heart. But just now, in this moment, he needs a second to fall apart.

Instead, he gets a knock on the front door before Catarina lets herself in. She’s checked on Alec and Jace twice since all this started, so he shouldn’t be surprised to see her here, and yet —

“Isabelle updated me,” she says, her eyes soft with compassion and her voice as no-nonsense and practical as ever. “I figured you’d need some company while your boyfriend and his brother are being violated in your guest room.”

She’s the first of them to put a word to what’s happening. To vocalize the real horror of what Jace and Alec are enduring at Lilith’s hands. The blunt straightforwardness sends him reeling. 

Magnus has been around a long, long time. It’s not the first time he’s encountered the evils of rape, although granted, it might be the most convoluted. It’s heartbreaking every time. He’d be devastated if it were Jace alone.

But Alec… Magnus is supposed to protect Alec. He’s supposed to shelter that innocence, not stand aside and…

And he’s the one who convinced Alec to do this.

“Shit,” Catarina says, as he falls down the rabbit hole of guilt that’s suddenly opening up before him. “Come on, sit down.” She takes hold of his arm and drags him back to the office.

“I’m going to kill her,” Magnus says, announcing the intention to the world, more so than just Catarina. “When this is over, I’m going to kill her, even if it takes me the rest of my life.”

Catarina all but forces him down into one of the comfortable armchairs in the office. “Yes,” she says, her voice dry, “because that’s exactly what Alec will need after all this.”

“He won’t have to know,” Magnus says sullenly, “because he’s never leaving this apartment ever again.” Magnus has a cellphone and an unlimited supply of stubbornness. Alec can do shadowhuntery things from the safety of their home and never step a foot outside into the world where something might cause him even a modicum of hurt.

Catarina has the kindness to conjour tea outside of Magnus’s line of vision, but she’s firm in pressing a mug into his hands. “As thrilled as I am sure the Clave will be with you kidnapping and imprisoning one of their valued generals, explain to me how you plan on getting Alec on board with this.”

“Belgium waffles and blowjobs,” Magnus says smartly, knowing that a combination of the two has a hundred percent chance of success when it comes to distracting his dedicated-to-the-point-of-self-harm boyfriend from drowning himself in work. As soon as the words leave his mouth, Magnus feels a wave of nausea rise to follow them. The air leaves his lungs, expelled by the punch-like blow of horror that strikes him in the chest. He can’t find the air to refill his lungs and has to blink rapidly to dispel the bright sparks of color that hover on the edges of his vision.

Without conscious command, his body turns in the direction of the guest room, and the mug in his hand slips from his grasp.

What has he done? _What is he doing_? Sitting here, bickering with Catarina, drinking tea, while Alec is….

Alec is... 

Catarina’s power washes over him, warming him from the bones out and chasing away the exhaustion and ache of mortality. She wraps safety around him the way he longs to do for Alec, and holds him, arms and powers curled around him, while he struggles to hold the panic at bay. With her, the danger to just give in and shatter is enormous.

Catarina has been his rock through so many hardships. She’s seen him at his best, and his worst. Having her with him now, when he’s lower than he’s ever been before, is a reassurance he’s not realized he’s needed. There’s no possible way he can repay her, and in truth, she’s the one person he knows he never has to try to. She and Ragnor. What Ragnor’d make of all this…

“Naphilim,” she says, shaking her head, her eyes sad for more than just Magnus. “Why are the prettiest ones always the most trouble?” When Arawn said similar, Magnus’s hackles had risen. He knows Catarina well enough to know what sits beneath the surface of her words. Magnus’s isn’t the only heart Alec has warmed towards Shadowhunters.

Forcing himself to leave the comfort of her arms, Magnus summons a smile and rubs at his eyes, smoothing away the evidence of his tears. “They do keep me on my toes,” Magnus says, matching her tone. He drums his fingers on the arm of the couch. “Thank you. For coming.”

It’s an intimate, private thing that’s happening, but Catarina has more than earned the trust they all put in her.

Her smile is soft as she reaches up and catches a tear he missed. Then, gently tilting his head, she frowns before magic rushes from her fingertips again. Over her shoulder, Magnus catches a glimpse of his reflection in the glass of a picture frame. She’s redone his eyeliner, given him back his armor.

“I’m half expecting a heavenly host to appear in my kitchen,” Magnus then tries to deflect with a joke. It’s mostly true. With what Jace and Alec are doing, with what it’s supposed to result in, surely the earth’s going to move?

Instead, the door to the guest room eventually opens quietly and the world collectively holds its breath.

No flashing lights. No angelic glow. No thunder and lightning. No fireworks.

It’s all very anticlimactic, at least until Alec sprints from the room, ignoring both Magnus and Catarina. It’s hard to tell if he’s crying or not, or if he’s in any pain. He makes it to the master bedroom, then drags the door closed behind him.

Every instinct Magnus has screams to follow Alec immediately, but he also knows that Alec has trusted him with Jace, and he feels a desperate need to see that trust met. Alec will never forgive himself if Jace is left alone after this.

Almost as if sensing how torn he is, Catarina catches his arm. “Leave Jace to me,” she says, “go see to Alec.” She’s a nurse. She probably has more experience soothing the traumatized and hurt than he will ever have. Jace is safe with her.

He tries to convey his gratitude with a look and falls woefully short. She nods, regardless. She understands.

Not wanting to wait another moment, Magnus dashes towards their bedroom. He’s not inside, but the sound of the shower running in their bathroom draws him forward.

Alec’s clothes are strewn across the bathroom floor, at odds with the fastidiously neat way he usually folds them up and puts them in the hamper. Clothes might get abandoned in a moment of passion, but outside of that, Alec’s need for tidiness has always won out, even when he’s been almost asleep on his feet.

There’s something tremulous about seeing his clothes scattered and abandoned on the floor. Magnus doesn’t have to imagine very hard to picture the frantic way Alec must’ve undressed.

The fact that the glass wall in the shower is almost opaque with steam already only adds to his concern.

“Alexander?” He’s not expecting an answer and isn’t surprised when one never comes. Instead, he unfastens his boots and removes his socks, not wanting to crack his skull open on the wet floor just because he’s in a rush to comfort his boyfriend. The rest of his clothes stay.

He’s glad for the protection they provide when he steps into the shower and almost yelps at the sting of blistering water blasting from the showerhead. His hand shoots out and adjusts the heat, a curse exploding from his tongue as he’s immediately soaked.

It takes only moments for the heat to turn into something more bearable, and in that time, Magnus’s vision adjusts to the steam-filled gloom of the shower. It’s a big space, big enough for them both to lay down in - and they have, in considerably happier occasions than this- which is why it takes Magnus a moment to find Alec amongst the plumes of rising steam.

“Oh darling,” his heart breaks as he falls to his knees. Alec, whether from physical exhaustion or emotional numbness, has sunk to sit on the tiled floor. He’s slumped so completely against the wall that it’s obviously the only thing holding him upright.

Alec doesn’t move when Magnus reaches out to touch his foot, not wanting to scare him with sudden movement or unwanted contact. He still doesn’t move when that hand is removed, and Magnus slides down the wall beside him, his clothes heavy and sodden.

There’s nothing in his expression to say he’s upset, or afraid, or hurt. It’s blank, and not in the way it is when he’s purposely hiding behind a mask of stoicism. He’s _utterly_ blank. Whatever he’s thinking or feeling, it’s happening so deep inside of him that he might as well be on the other side of an ocean.

Magnus isn’t sure if he pulls Alec into his lap for Alec’s sake or his own. He hopes, desperately, that by letting Alec curl around him, by wrapping him up safely in his arms, Magnus might be able to transmit comfort and love beyond that thousand-yard stare to wherever Alec is hiding.

Any discomfort he feels from the weight of Alec in his lap and the chafe of wet fabric against his skin is meaningless.

“I’m here,” he whispers, lips against Alec’s ear, “I love you.”

Alec gives no indication that he hears Magnus at all. He doesn’t raise his arms to hold Magnus back, or turn himself to melt into an embrace. He’s like a clockwork soldier, the key removed, stiff and waiting.

Magnus waits with him. He runs his hands through Alec’s hair and calls out across the void, trying to draw him back.

He knows better than to expect tears. When Alec truly breaks down, it’s an implosion, not an explosion. Everything turns inwards, all the pain drawn internally to be used as a weapon against himself over and over again. Magnus hides behind excessive bravado and showmanship: Alec hides behind his training.

This time, he’s just gone too deep.

Magnus is patient, and the water pressure in the building is phenomenal. They have time.

It takes a while before Alec’s skin is less blistering to the touch, and for the violent pink blemish of scalding water to fade. Magnus lets him stay in the cocoon of quiet and calm, lets him hide, until that heat swings too far towards coolness. Then he reaches up and turns off the water.

“Come on, darling,” he encourages, “come on.”

It’s a balancing act, trying to stand them both up without letting Alec out of his arms, even more so to try and do it without them both falling and breaking something.

Alec continues to be unresponsive and uncooperative, but Magnus has long since mastered the art of getting him into the fluffy white robe that hangs from the back of the bathroom door. He quite adores Alec wearing it, the domesticity and softness of it, and the way it gives Alec the feeling of modesty he needs in those watercolor moments between bright snaps of passion.

He fastens the belt in a loose knot. “There we are,” he says, settling Alec down onto the chaise lounge and dropping a kiss to his forehead. “Now you stay right there for just a second-“ he dashes behind the antique room divider and curses wet fabric as he tries to undress and dry himself off. Climbing fully dressed into a shower might be the least frightening thing for Alec, and in the days of Magnus’s magic, scarily an inconvenience. Now, it takes him longer than expected just to get his jeans off.

He keeps a steady chatter of one-sided conversation going, hoping to provide Alec with something to anchor to, then jumps out of his skin when large hands catch his elbow and stop him from falling on his face when finally freeing himself from wet denim.

“Alexander,” Magnus breathes. It’s entirely undignified, standing there, dripping wet in just boxers and a shirt, but he lets Alec fold him into a hug with nothing less than elated relief. “Thank god.”

Alec curls a hand carefully around the back of Magnus’s head, holding him carefully against his shoulder. For what feels like an eternity, they stay like that, clinging to each other. Magnus whispers prayers to gods he doesn’t believe in, thanking every power under the stars for the chance to hold the man he loves in his arms.

“Magnus,” the sound of his name is a balm to brutalized nerves and a rising sob echoes in Magnus’s throat. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

That, Magnus is sure, is a lie, but at that moment, he can’t bring himself to protest.

“You went away there, for a bit,” he says instead, an indirect question that he hopes Alec will accept.

“I-“ Magnus can hear the pain in that one word, and holds him tighter. “I’m sorry. I thought it’d be easier…” His eyes, truly the most beautiful part of him, are both very young and horribly jaded. In the safety of their room, he allows Magnus to see just how hurt he really is, and Magnus's heart breaks all over again.

“Don’t you dare apologize.” Magnus is the one who convinced him to walk into that room. Right now, the reason why - to save him and Jace from what might become of them if Alec had fought it - means nothing when stacked up to the reality of what just happened.

It might not have been violent.

Alec and Jace might’ve walked into that room willingly.

But what followed was rape. For both of them.

And Magnus didn’t just let it happen: he encouraged it.

For this. For the feeling of Alec in his arms just one more time.

There aren’t fires in any dimension of Hell hot enough to burn him for his sins.

“I’m so sorry, darling. So very sorry.”

 

* * *

 

 

Catarina has worked something close to a miracle with Jace by the time Magnus and Alec are dressed. They held each other so long that they were dry by the time they parted, and Magnus has half expected to come out of the bedroom to find Jace AWOL.

He’s not. He’s sat that the table, his eyes practically bleeding from being rubbed so hard. He looks up hopefully when he hears them arrive, but averts his eyes the second he sees Alec.

Magnus has no idea what happened in that room, and he will never ask. That’s between Alec and Jace and no one else. The logistics, the details, those are things he doesn’t need to know. It happened. That’s enough.

“How are you feeling, Alec?” Catarina asks, her trained medical eye tracking him up and down. She takes in the stiff way he stands and the bruised look on his face, her mouth setting into an unhappy line.

“Still alive,” says Alec, a statement, not a joke. Jace says nothing.

Magnus isn’t sure what he’s been hoping for - that maybe they’d spring out of that room, healthy and healed and ready to shove Lilith’s orb down her throat.

There’s no visible indication that they’ve been healed.

No indication that they now have access to otherworldly powers.

No indication they’ve been raped, either.

“I’m heading back to the Institute,” Alec says, breaking the awkward stillness in the room.

“Is that a good idea?” Magnus looks to Cat for an indication on whether either shadowhunter is fit for travel.

Alec doesn’t appear to care one way or another. “I”m not sitting around waiting for this to kill us. Either Eros worked, or not. I’m done letting Lilith dictate our lives.”

Jace flinches at her name. He’s tucked his arms around himself, sinking into the chair. He’s barely into his twenties and already looks as though he’s lived through an eternity of war. Alec’s no different, just better at hiding it. That open vulnerability he allowed Magnus to see is now firmly locked away. 

Catarina and Magnus share a glance. “I’ll make us a portal,” she says.

 

* * *

*** 

“This is what’s caused such trouble?” Catarina’s disbelief is echoed on the faces of the shadow hunters gathered in the lab. Magnus has missed traveling via portal something desperate.

Upon their arrival, Isabelle throws desperate arms around both of her brothers, her face creasing with hurt when they both shrug her off and move some distance away from each other.

Their body language is oddly similar: both have their arms crossed, their backs and shoulders stiff and tight, but where Jace looks bruised and breakable, Alec radiates the kind of menace that screams ‘fuck off’. In the presence of the orb, that thousand-yard stare is back.

Looking between her brothers, her dark eyes glassy and ringed with exhaustion, Isabelle asks, “Did… did you? Did it?” She shakes her head, brushing aside the horror of a sister to shrug into the safe shroud of scientific distance. “Did you experience any kind of side effects?” She tactfully talks around the subject, likely as much from fear of being overheard as compassion.

Alec shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“At all? Did you both-”

Alec’s expression is the same one he wears when he’s trying his hardest to lock away his pain. It’s hard and a little cruel, ice cold and solid. “Would you like us to write you up a report?” he snaps.

Jace still doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes, but he does say, “Alec, come on,” in a whisper-soft voice.

Alec closes his eyes, miserable. When he opens them again, that ice is melting, and Magnus fears what will happen when he can no longer hide behind it. “I’m sorry. No. There was nothing.” For a heartbeat, he looks across at Jace, his guilt as clear as day.

Isabelle lifts a cautious hand, as if she’s considering reaching out to touch her brother, but then lowers it, her shoulders slumping. “That doesn’t mean it didn’t work,” she says, trying to look and sound positive. “But I’ll continue to work on other possible solutions.”

“I’ll help,” Catarina offers immediately. She's eying the orb with the same level of hatred Magnus feels. 

“Thank you,” Alec says, rubbing a hand over his face in exhaustion. “I should meet with Underhill. If we’re out of time, someone needs to make sure the handover is done properly.”

Magnus can feel his breath catch at the same time he sees Isabelle reach the same conclusion.

Alec’s done, and with a practicality only he can exhibit while awaiting death, he’s worrying about fucking paperwork.

As one, Magnus and Isabelle open their mouths to protest.

As one, Jace and Alec suddenly scream.

The orb suddenly explodes with red light, that pulsing, throbbing thrum of energy latching on to its power source and consuming them.

Magnus waits for something different to happen. He waits for angels. For heavenly power to cleanse away the taint of evil.

He waits for Jace and Alec to throw off the orb’s grip. To stand tall and proud, true warriors of heaven, imbued with angelic might.

But nothing happens.

Alec hits the floor, the same as last time, blood gushing across his face.

Jace joins him a second later.

They failed. Eros failed. They fought, and they suffered, and they broke their hearts, for _nothing_.

Magnus doesn’t stop to think.

Throwing himself forward, he grabs hold of the orb. If being attached to two souls has bought Jace and Alec this much time since the first attack, maybe the presence of a third will give them just a little bit longer to fight?

If it doesn’t? Jace is dead. Alec’s dead. Magnus has nothing to lose.

The fire hits him with the impact of a bullet. He braces himself, prepares for the agony he can still hear in Jace’s voice.

It never comes.

The fire burns, yes, but it’s a familiar heat, and the flames that lick his soul aren’t the all-consuming inferno of wildfire, but the steady flicker of a candle standing vigilant in a window, becoming him home.

The orb is a weapon of Edom, and it recognizes the blood that pulses beneath Magnus’s skin.

It feels like a home he’s been running from since he was a child. It feels like magic. Not _his_ magic, but something close. _Familial_.

Asmodeus is his father. Whether he claims the title or not, Magnus is a Prince of Edom. Demon-blooded. Sired by a monster.

He swears no fealty to her, but Lilith is his Queen, and the orb, having failed for so long to return to its mistress, recognizes him as a successor.

The magic that rushes through his veins is hotter, sharper, darker than his own. It’s a magic born of pain and violation, much like Magnus himself. It clicks into place like a master key sliding into a rusty lock, uncomfortable, but true.

And Magnus can see it now. The chain of light linking Alec to Jace, and Jace to the orb.

No. Not the orb. The orb no longer pulses with power. _Magnus_ does. The chain sits in his hands now, not the orb’s. He focuses on it with every fiber of his being, every molecule now tingling with stolen power, and he can _feel_.

It’s a distant, abstract thing. Consequence, not cause. But he can feel Alec and Jace and the bond they share. He can feel their pain. He can feel their spirits, flickering and weak.

He’s killed before, but always with force. With consuming fire, or vines of magic wrapped around a vulnerable throat. He’s choked off oxygen and broken bones, but he’s never felt life flutter so fragile in his hands.

The more they fade, the stronger he feels. The better this new magic fits under his skin. The rush of joy, of relief, is crippling. He’s almost floating, awash with endorphins and overcome by the sudden return of life to his dying, mortal shell.

He’s a warlock again. He’s immortal again.

What are two Nephilim to him, really? When have they ever repaid the pain and the blood he’s shed for them? They owe him this. They stole his power, now he’s stealing it back.

The orb is completely empty now. The power is Magnus’s, every drop, and it’s tenfold the power he used to possess. It’s not just demonic, but angelic too, and the sparks of opposition are both maddening and exhilarating. He can do anything with this power. Go anywhere. _Be anything_.

He can kill Lilith. He can tear her limb from limb for what she’s done.

What she’s done…

He wants her dead, but can’t remember why. She hurt someone. Him? No. No, not him. Someone he loves. Someone he cherishes.

Alexander. She hurt his Alexander. She—

Alexander!

A sudden scream splits the air, anguished and broken beyond anything he’s ever heard. No. No, that’s not true. He has heard something similar. From Alexander, when Jace died. When his _parabatai_ rune faded.

Magnus snaps open his eyes, Jace’s shattering heartbreak finally breaking through the cocoon this new magic has wrapped Magnus in so tightly.

The golden thread in his hands is now finer than spun sugar, and about to break.

“Magnus!” He turns. Catarina, her pale magic flickering helplessly under the onslaught he’s unleashed. It’s barely keeping her and Isabelle safe, a fragile shield against the battering power of Edom.

Horror blooms and forces back the fires of Hell. The orb isn’t killing Alec and Jace, not anymore.

_He is._

But he can stop it. He can save them.

He tightens his grip on the chain and yanks it away from himself, hard. The power that has until now been pouring into him, stutters and stills, and Magnus throws everything he has into pushing. Into reversing the flow.

Jace is unconscious, and Alec is… Alec is…

The last time Magnus harnessed this much power at once, it was to banish Lilith’s presence from Jace’s body. It cost him everything just to use it.

This time, he feels like it’s barely tapping into a deep, deep well.

He’s powerful enough to bring them both back. He knows he is. It’s their life force that’s singing in his veins.

Jace stirs first, his face smeared with blood that’s run from his eyes and nose. He blinks up at Magnus, a child observing something more ancient and powerful than he can comprehend, and Magnus is ashamed to see the flicker of fear that flashes in his eyes.

Then Jace looks at Alec, and that gaze hardens. Once again, they are of a similar mindset. For Alec, any cost is worth it.

He nods, and Magnus draws deeper from the well, and together, they drag Alec back to them.

Magnus pours power into the bond he still has to Jace, and Jace, every rune aflame with angelic power, finds the floating, frayed edges of the _parabatai_ bond, and knits them back together. The muttered words of their sacred bond fall from Jace’s lips, an oath and a prayer in equal parts.

Alec, in the face of such power, of such unending, overwhelming love, has no choice but to come back to them.

His eyes flutter open, and as suddenly as the power has hit him, Magnus is able to force it into dormancy. The sudden snap of a magical lock brings peace, relief, and a tumble into endless darkness.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter!
> 
> Thank you so, so much for coming on this horrible little angst trip with me! You've been such wonderful encouragement and support, so thank you!
> 
> This chapter brings a close to this story but is by no means the end. Things will be continued in the sequel, because it takes more than one chapter to resolve all the issues that have arisen! (and I might create a few more issues with this part while I'm at it! *ominous background music!*) 
> 
> (extra side note, I absolutely had to rewrite the Alec & Lorenzo scene after this week's ep! My heart!!!)

There are few things Magnus loves more in life than waking up to Alec’s beloved face.

His eyes burn when he opens them, the gentle lights of the infirmary a halo around tousled dark hair. He’s beautiful, so beautiful, and the smile that blossoms on his face is more radiant than a thousand suns.

“Magnus,” Alec’s voice rolls over him, a gentle rumble of thunder far off in the distance, and he cup’s Magnus’s face in one large, warm palm.

There’s no trace of sickness lining those treasured features. He looks whole and healthy and vibrant, lit from within by love. He looks like an angel, and in the strong, sure lines of his shoulders, carries all the protective fury of the Heavenly Host. In Alec’s arms, nothing can touch him. Overwhelmed by the love in his eyes, there’s no space left in Magnus’s heart for Hell to fill.

“Sleep,” Alec says, his thumb tracing delicate butterfly kisses over Magnus’s cheek. “Just sleep. It’ll be okay.”

Magnus believes him. With the image of Alec locked away, a treasure in his mind to be protected for eternity, Magnus feels as close to Heaven as he will ever get.

When he opens his eyes again, the infirmary lights are no longer candlelight soft, but bright and blaring. The soft, sleepy intimacy of his last memory fades, and instead of Alexander’s warm gaze, he finds himself looking up at Lorenzo Rey.

Who is seriously standing far, far too close.

“Argh!” Magnus jerks back in shock and slams his head against the metal headboard of the medical bed. “Lorenzo?”

“Ah. Bane.” Lorenzo has always managed to make the most innocuous statement sound disdainful, and he’s on true form, his gaze narrowed and suspicious. “You look terrible. How do you feel?”

The lights flicker, a wave of magic flooding the room before he even thinks about trying to pull it back. He looks down at his hands, watches red light flicker between his fingers, and remembers.

He has magic again. Not his magic, but magic, and his heart sings with it. Reaching out tentatively, the universe sings back, a powerful wave of joy that calls to him. It’s the height of arrogance to believe that the happiness he feels pouring in his direction is the universe’s response, but in truth, it’s not far from reality. He has a place within existence that’s defined by magic, and just as the beat of a butterfly’s wing can cause a hurricane half a world over, the space left by his absence has created a ripple that doesn’t just affect him.

Now, when the pulse of life beats around him, he can respond in kind. The world feels right again. For Magnus, at least.

Possibly even Lorenzo, if the way he’s looking at Magnus suggests.

“Bane? How do you feel?” There’s no concern for Magnus in his voice, but there _is_ concern…

Magnus merely stares at him. He feels completely off guard in Lorenzo’s company, vulnerable in white medical robes despite the return of his powers, and the question might not be so bad, if not for the way it’s delivered with the air of someone studying a subject under a microscope.

“Where’s Alec?” For all he knows, that memory of Alec in a halo of light might just be a dream. Alec should be here - in the infirmary himself, if not by Magnus’s side. His absence is…

Lorenzo rolls his eyes so hard it looks like he strains something. “You just absorbed a thousand years of accumulated magic, blew every power grid between here and Queens, regained your immortality, and you’re worried about your little boyfriend. Honestly, Bane, it pains me to see you like this.”

“His ‘little boyfriend’ would like to remind you that you’re here as a courtesy,” Alec’s voice rings through the infirmary, as cold as an arctic blast. “And since you’ve been unable to offer any insight of value, I think perhaps it’s time for you to return to your other… responsibilities.” He draws out the last word, a hint of that famous Lightwood aristocratic distaste laced with derision.

The words ‘get the fuck out of my Institute’ are subtext, but obviously so.

Lorenzo is not cowed. He’s had far less experience with the Clave than Magnus, and even less experience with Lightwoods. Alec might be a shining gem of goodness in that family line, but he’s got the steel spine and tactical ruthlessness his family is famous for, and he’s more than a match for Lorenzo. On any other day, Magnus might enjoy watching his boyfriend take the new High Warlock of Brooklyn down a peg or two, but more than anything, he wants Lorenzo gone.

He wants Alec in his arms.

“And what about the damage done to this city? As High Warlock, all crimes _committed_ by warlocks are mine to punish.”

Alec puts himself at the foot of Magnus’s bed, every inch of him wound into a tightly coiled threat. You’d have to be blind, stupid or arrogant to ignore the menace he’s radiating. “Fortunately for you, no crime was committed by a warlock. Magnus was mortal and without magic at the time of the incident, and moreover was under contract with this Institute, meaning his actions are _mine_ to judge, not yours.”

“How convenient,” Lorenzo says with a grimace. It looks like he considers pushing the matter, then shows his machiavellian streak by simply smiling. “Very well, but mark my words, Mr. Lightwood, we will be discussing this at the next Council meeting.”

Magnus wouldn't think it possible, but Alec manages to look even more furious. “Oh, there’s lots we’ll be discussing, Mr. Rey.”

What, Magnus wonders, in the name of creation has he missed?

Lorenzo inclines his head, a sycophantic smile sitting awkwardly on his face. “Of course. Bane.” He acknowledges Magnus, which is a surprise, then sweeps from the room with pompous grace.

The moment he’s gone, Alec deflates, and Magnus is left with his soft, sweet Shadowhunter once more. “Magnus, I’m so sorry! You were never supposed to be left alone with him. I’ll be having serious words with-“

Magnus grabs his hand and pulls him close, startling the worried ramble of words into silence. Immediately, Alec tucks himself into the space left for him, his chin hooked over Magnus’s shoulder, his long arms wound around his waist.

Magnus takes the time to breathe him in. To savor the feel of him, the familiar smell and warmth of his skin, and the silky tickle of that unruly hair. He’s alive and he’s breathing and he feels steadier under Magnus’s hands than the last time he held him. He’s thinner than he’s ever been, ribs too prominent and goosebumps on his skin, but Magnus has seen how quickly he can pack on muscle when he puts his mind to it. Alec’s nothing if not dedicated to his fitness.

“You’re okay!” Magnus says with elation. “Wait,” he pulls back just enough to take Alec’s face in his hands and hold him carefully still, “are you okay?” He tracks over the angles and curves of Alec’s face. He looks tired, and there’s something very careful about the way he holds himself, but that ghastly transparency to his skin has faded. He’ll always be pale, but the shadows under his eyes no longer look like bruises and his lips are soft and pink again.

Alec curls a hand around his wrists and angles his head so he can kiss Magnus’s palm. “I was so worried about you,” he whispers. “I’ve never been more afraid, Magnus.” The rapid flutter of his heart is proof of that, and Magnus frowns.

“That’s how I felt, seeing what the orb was doing to you,” Magnus admits. He's spent so long trying to hold it together, to be strong, that just whispering the truth feels like a weight being lifted from his heart. “I thought I’d lost you.” A horrible thought occurs to him. “Wait, the orb. Is it…”

“It’s completely harmless now,” Alec rushes to reassure him. “It’s okay.”

He says that but what if it makes another attack? What if it comes for Alec and Jace again? “Are you sure? Have you tested it?”

Alec’s soft smile twists into a supremely annoyed scowl. “Izzy picked it up,” he says, making it unmistakably clear just what he thinks of that. “It had no effect on her, or anyone else who touched it.”

“And you? It didn’t need to touch you again once it got a hold of you.”

“Magnus,” Alec says slowly. “You’ve been unconscious for three days. The orb has been completely dormant since you touched it. I’m furious about that, by the way. You could've died!”

“You _did_ die!” Magnus protests, a spark of familiar terror flaring in his heart. Alec died. Magnus lost him. Failed him. It’s only by some miracle he was able to bring him back.

Sensing his distress, Alec tucks a hand around the back of his neck and pulls him in close again. There, with the beat of his heart so close to Magnus’s own, he’s able to find balance and calm. Eventually, he asks, “Three days?”

“Terrified,” Alec says in a broken voice. “Cat couldn’t bring you back. Why’d you think I brought Lorenzo in? Not that he was any help. I am sorry about that.” Magnus shakes his head against Alec’s neck. He couldn’t care less about Lorenzo. “But… you’ve got your powers back.” He sounds far more hesitant than Magnus expects, but after a moment of thought, it’s fairly easy to see why.

“The orb recognized my birthright,” Magnus is willing to discuss this with Alec and Alec alone. He laughs, a bitter, almost angry sound. “My father is going to be elated.”

“He… he’ll be happy you’ve got your power back?” Magnus doesn’t like the way Alec’s voice catches when he calls it Magnus’s.

He buries his fingers in Alec’s thick curls. “I stole power intended for Lilith. He’ll be thrilled. Possibly not that _I_ have them, but certainly that she doesn’t.”

The mad rush of infinite power he felt when under the orb’s grasp has settled into something far more low key and manageable, but Magnus knows, the same way he knows Alec’s heart, that it’s waiting there, dormant but ready to be called upon. He can level mountains with the kind of power he now has at his fingertips.

He can certainly wage war on the Queen of Hell.

And as for Asmodeus, either he can help, or Magnus will destroy him, too. Magnus isn’t a child anymore. Asmodeus can’t hurt him now. Can’t force him to do the vile, despicable things he remembers in his nightmares. He can’t take Alec from him. Magnus will eviscerate him if he so much as looks at his lover.

He can do it, with this power. Tear him apart, limb from limb. Rid the world of his evil. Rid the world of Lilith’s taint. All of it. He can lay waste to Edom, to every circle of Hell. He’s going to. He’s _excited_ to. And he’s going to start with the bitch who tried to take his beloved from him. He’s going to—

Startled by the violence of his thoughts, Magnus gives a mental shove to all the whispering voices at the back of his mind. Exhaustion isn’t pretty on him, not when topped up with a week of watching the man he loves wither and fade away.

A good night’s sleep in Alec’s arms is what he needs. That, and possibly a trip to their favorite breakfast spot in Cannes.

Alec’s frown deepens as the silence stretches between them. “You _are_ okay, aren’t you? The power you absorbed, it was, well, it was a lot.”

More than Alec can possibly know. It’s a miracle he only took the power out in New York and not the entire Eastern Seaboard.

He kisses Alec’s forehead. “You’re alright, darling,” he says honestly. “I have never been better.”

Alec doesn’t look convinced. He really is adorably like a confused puppy when he’s unsure about something, though Magnus is smart enough to never air those thoughts aloud. “You’d tell me? If there was anything wrong.”

Magnus snaps his fingers, conjures a red rose, and nearly bursts into tears just because he _can_. Passing the rose to Alec, Magnus musters his most reassuring smile. “I promise,” he says. “It’s you I worry about. How… have you spoken to Jace?”

Alec, who until this point has been studying his rose, looks down at his feet. There’s Magnus’s answer. “Oh, darling.”

“It didn’t work,” Alec chokes. “I took advantage of him for nothing. I swore, I _swore_ I’d never hurt him and now I-“

Magnus presses a finger to his lips, warm with the touch of his magic, and feels his heartbreak all over again when Alec flinches at the touch.

“Alexander,” Magnus says, serious as he can possibly be. “I can spend the next decade telling you all the ways that this was not your fault. You didn’t take advantage of him and you didn’t hurt him. That was the orb. That was Lilith.”

It’s the power that now pulses in Magnus’s veins.

“I-“

“No,” Magnus is firm, cutting him off. “Jace is your _parabatai_. Your brother. Don’t let her take that from you. Don’t let her win. Talk to him, darling. Please?”

Alec still won’t meet his eyes. “I don’t know what to say to him,” he whispers.

Magnus holds him close again, this time letting Alec rest his head against his neck, the weight of the world once again heavy on those broad shoulders.

“You will,” Magnus says kindly. “In time. You need to heal. You both do. Just promise me: don’t let this fester. Don’t harden your heart to it. I’m here, for whatever you need.”

Alec doesn’t answer. Magnus doesn’t expect him to. He can see the wheels in his mind turning. He doesn’t have to respond, just listen.

Magnus wasn’t lying when he told Jace that Alec needs both of them.

Eventually, Alec gives in and sinks into Magnus’s embrace. “I love you,” he whispers, holding Magnus night.

Magnus continues to stroke his hair, soothing and soft. “I know, darling. I know.”

 

* * *

 

  
Ivory keys are cool under Jace’s fingers. Familiar. The melody they write is slow and sad, a cliched reflection of the turmoil in his heart, but one he can’t help. He doesn’t know how to talk about Clary. He doesn’t know how to talk about what happened with Alec. He doesn’t know how to talk _to_ Alec. Not any more. Without the words to express himself, this, this pathetic, childish exercise, is the only way he knows of relieving some of the pressure building up in his chest.

The temptation is to spar, but there’s no one he’s not afraid of crossing blades with right now. None of the other Shadowhunters can beat him in a fight, and the only person who knows Jace well enough to outmaneuver him is Alec.

The idea of fighting with Alec, whether in training or not, makes Jace feels sick.

It’s clearly something Alec feels the same about. He can barely stand to be in the same room as Jace these days.

Yes, he’s been worried about Magnus, and yes, he’s had his hands full with all the shit that’s gone down in the week and a half he’s been absent. The excuses he has to avoid Jace are valid ones, but they’re excuses none the less.

He won’t look at Jace. Won’t talk to him. And when Jace tried to hold him while Magnus was rushed to the infirmary, he flinched so hard he almost hurt himself.

Jace doesn’t blame him. He’s as disgusted by himself as Alec is.

And the worst thing about it is that it’s all been for nothing. No extra powers. No extra strength. It doesn’t fit with anything the Clave have said about the consequences of Eros, and Jace knows why.

Eros is supposed to be an act of _love_. Of passion and adoration and joy. It’s two hearts joining the way two souls have already done so.

The Clave has made it all about the physical act, and as Magnus says, that probably is their homophobia at play. Not all _parabatai_ are the same gender, but enough of them are to make it a consideration.

But it’s not the act at all. Eros hasn’t worked because Alec loves _Magnus_ , not Jace, and Jace… Jace will always love Clary.

He and Alec didn’t give in to a moment of unguarded passion.

Jace raped him.

His fingers slip on the keys. He longs for Valentine to reach down and snap the offending bone like a twig. The pain is welcome right now.

The melody changes. He picks something harsher. Angrier. Something dark and brutal. He strikes the keys with more force than necessary, pouring his rage into the notes with the desperate wish that the creation of something new might lance the poison from his heart.

Alec cried.

He might’ve tried to hide it from Jace, might’ve managed to contain every whisper of sound, but Jace knew. The bond didn’t have to tell him. He could feel every moment and at night, instead of sleeping, he drowns himself in the memories of Alec’s silent sobs. He doesn’t need an agony rune to torture himself with, not when he can replay that moment in his head over and over again.

He wanted to save Alec. He wanted to _save_ him. He looked at the facts, took the course of action he believed was right, and got it wrong. Again. That’s all he ever does. Clary died because of it, and now Alec has to talk around feeling another man’s touch beneath his skin. More than that, though, more than what Jace did, Alec has to live every day knowing that two people he’s supposed to be able to trust above all orchestrated his violation.

Magnus talked him into it.

Jace went through with it.

And Alec, in true Alec form, takes both those facts as proof that he was willing.

It’s not his brother’s pain that torments Jace the most, it’s his self-loathing.

Something moves in the corner of his eye, and he looks up, the music pausing as his jaw drops and tears rush to his eyes.

It’s been a day now since Magnus woke up, and four days since the last of the orb’s attack, and already Alec is well on the mend. He’s got Izzy and Underhill hovering over him like mother hens, and a small, dedicated team of young shadowhunters who follow him around like ducklings, just in case he might need anything. It’s driving him crazy.

It’s also, apparently, driving him to desperation. He’s sat himself down on the couch by the piano, a mug of coffee by his feet and a tablet resting on his crossed legs. He doesn’t look at Jace, but he does say, so, so softly, “Don’t stop?”

It’s not acceptance, or forgiveness, or anything tangible, but it is a promise, unspoken and unbroken.

Alec isn’t leaving him. He’s not pushing Jace away. He’s needed time - still needs time - and space. Alec’s always been like that. He overthinks everything, and he’s agonizingly slow at choosing a path sometimes, but he never just leaves things to fester and die. He faces them, even if doing so is a stab to his heart.

Jace bites back a sob. He’s desperate for the warmth of Alec’s embrace and acceptance, and the knowledge that maybe he’s not lost them entirely, not forever, is almost more than he can cope with.

He can’t speak, but he can play, and if the music that surrounds them expresses all the things he can’t, well, Alec’s his _parabatai_. He knows what it means.

 


	8. Chapter 8

Okay guys. Message received loud and clear. I’ve been in this fandom a month, and I won’t be staying in it any longer. Why would I want to put time, energy and care into something only to have abuse hurled in my face?


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